Letters From Seattle
by Safui
Summary: Jess and Nick are each in relationships, and have started their own little sub-friendship through letter-writing. What happens when Jess suddenly stops and they are forced to face each other a few weeks later at Schmidt and Cece's wedding?
1. The Letters

**This is a story I came up with on the spot today. It will be a multi-chapter, and don't be put off by this chapter, this is simply to explain what to expect in the coming chapters. I will say that there is an impending wedding thrown into the mix, which will be the epicentre of this story. I hope you enjoy!**

**I don't own New Girl or the characters.**

* * *

_**The Letters - **_**_Chapter 1 - Prologue_**

_*The loft lies vacant, not a single car parked outside of the crumbling ruins of a building that hasn't been attended to in three years. Corrosion eats up the sides and the windows are boarded up as a result of a health violation in the form of potential cholera pathogens in the water brought to light by the last health inspection in 2015. _

_4D, the door that they'd walked through so many times in so many moods. Sometimes, they were sad, others they were excited. Over that threshold marks years' worth of kisses, arguments, tears, laughs, friendships, relationships and pregnancy scares more often than not. Locked away in the abandoned air of the loft are millions of memories that can never be truly forgotten.*_

**_~Meanwhile in Seattle~_**

_Dear Nick,_

_Remember when you told me you weren't sure about the colours for the walls? Well, Ikea have a new section dedicated to guys who have no concept of home décor. They can help you with matching the walls and the furniture, although I would have said white with soft mint. It's actually not even that much of a dilemma, you just need to open up that thick skull of yours and look inside of it._

_I was just clearing out some boxes from the attic and I found your Zombie novel tucked away under some old documents waiting to be shredded. You're lucky I had 'Do Not Shred!' written in thick red sharpie, because I'm running on coffee and sleepless nights right now and I think I threw the pizza carton in the sink and the plates in the trash can. I'll check later. Anyhow, I read over it and I came across the setting: Seattle! I guess it was just built into my subconscious that Seattle is where I need to be right now. Who knows, maybe they'll make an adaptation of the novel and I can play Carol. I need some way to kick-start my acting career. (I'm kidding, just in case you expect me to go along with any of your bizarre plans in the future.)_

_I'm sorry I haven't got much else exciting to tell you, other than I'm super excited you haven't resorted back to the modern days of texting instead of letter writing. I feel like I need to keep reminding you that there isn't actually an autocorrect option built into pens. Anyway, I hope all is well with you and Caroline. And good luck with that baby makin' process! Maybe next time we see each other you'll have a little Miller hanging off of you!_

_With love,_

_Jessica Day._

Jess sets the pen down beside the page and folds it in half, leaving it on her desk. She stands up and takes the eraser, rubbing the white board clean of facts about the Civil War and makes a note on a pink post-it to pick up the DVD documentary on it she's promised her students on the way home. After she packs up her books and the letter, she slings her laptop case around her shoulder and heads for the exit, smoothing out her skirt as she pads down the hallway, past the lockers and the offices, drawing yet another school day to a close.

* * *

When she gets into the apartment, the aroma of fresh tomatoes tantalizes her senses and she kicks her shoes off at the door, wary not to slip on the hardwood floors in her tights.

"Alan, I'm home." She chirps, turning into the kitchen. The first thing she sees amidst all of the modern oak furniture with marble countertops and colour co-ordinated dishes on the dish-rack is the her husband of three weeks, Alan, standing over the stove, engrossed in the contents of the saucepan in front of him. A faint haze of sunlight shines in through the window, casting tall shadows across the room.

"Hey babe, spaghetti good for dinner?"

"De-licious." She smiles and pecks a light kiss on her husband's cheek.

She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder, taking in the fragrant scent of herbs and admiring the concentration on his face.

She and Alan met two years ago, not long after Jess had made the decision to leave the guys in Los Angeles and make the move to Seattle after being offered a job in a prestigious private school that paid generously. Of course, she'd been hesitant and apprehensive. She'd devoted four years to that loft, and now she's just supposed to up and leave?

It was Cece who'd convinced her that it would be worth it, and that it would be a great experience to make a drastic altercation to her life. Jess had given it some thought, and after a gruelling few months, tensions high in the loft at the thought of Jess leaving, lying mostly with Nick, she'd packed her bags, said her goodbyes and caught the next plane to Seattle.

However, it wasn't as easy as that. Nick and Jess had been together since Cece's almost-wedding with Shivrang, and there'd been talks of proposal in Nick's half. Jess had no idea, and by the time he'd gone to initiate Operation: Wed Jess, she'd come bounding in with the news that she'd gotten the job offer and Nick's hopes had been dashed instantaneously. He wasn't going to be the one to stand in the way of her dreams, so on that same day, they'd mutually decided it'd be best to end it now to stop them from having to suffer through the whole process of waiting for her decision to be made. Not long after, Cece announced that she and Schmidt would be leaving the United States to explore the diverse cultures of Europe for a year. Those two had ventured off on many impulsive journeys, seeing as they both have the incomes for it, but this had been by far the most extensive one.

And then, as if it wasn't already bad enough that Winston and Nick should be left alone once again, a phone call came through, the voice on the other end being that of Winston's old basketball agent offering him the chance to return to Latvia on the grounds of being treated like royalty and the chance to be a permanent team member. Of course, everyone tried to tell him that this was an exaggeration, but Winston wasn't going to turn down the chance to make some extra money and get back his old sports-man body he'd been pining over since his return to the States.

Once Nick had been left stranded in the loft on his own, the pain of seeing everyone's rooms baron without a single tub of sculpting chutney on the bathroom shelves had become too much for him and he sought refuge in the one person that no one else would ever approve of: Caroline. She'd recently been divorced from her husband of four years and was more than willing to have Nick back. They moved in together only three months after they'd been together and swore oath that this time they'd make it work and from thereon, he'd tried to forget about his old life in the loft.

As for the letters, those started after Jess called Nick to see how he was doing, and then Alan got suspicious of their frequent phone calls, not to mention to absurd bills coming through the mail every day.

_"He's just an old roommate, Al, there's nothing to be worried about."_

_"So why are you on the phone with him for two hours every day?"_

She had no explanation and promised that the calls would stop, purely out of consideration for their relationship. She'd found a more efficient way to stay in contact with him, and it also paired as a fulfilment of her childhood dream of having a pen-pal. At first, Nick wasn't up for it, but once she'd sought out his address and began practically throwing the letters at him, he'd given in and began to reply to them. He told her all about Caroline and Winston and how he thinks that this could be his calling from above. Jess repetitively tried to make herself sound disappointed, but it turns out that that's pretty difficult to do when your only resources are a pen and paper. Nick asked why she wanted to write and why they couldn't just email, but she'd made up an excuse saying that the Wi-Fi is too expensive in the apartment and she has no time to get to a computer with her hectic schedule. She never mentioned Alan.

Some would argue that this was almost like sneaky flirting, but Jess constantly reassures herself that it's just maintaining the upkeep of a valued friendship, and then she lets him know the same thing.

_Hey, in case Caroline asks about the letters, or if she's reading this now (Hey Caroline!), there's no significant meaning behind them. This is just some old fashioned bonding via. Pre-technology methods! Have a great day!_

Nick responds sans concern for the integrity of his and Caroline's relationships, and talks like he normally would in every sentence. He starts off with some cheesy greeting, the body normally contains random mumbo-jumbo about the things he's found out about and what he's doing writing-wise and then he asks her opinions of a few things. I.e. decorating his home. It should be worrying to Caroline, but she lets him carry on. As for Alan, he doesn't know about Nick or the letters. And Jess is beginning to feel the burn of keeping secrets from him, because if there's one thing Alan isn't, it's ignorant and/or dense. Alas, she carries on, writing in places that he's unlikely to show up at, and posts them at the same time every day after school, and she's always the first up in the morning to collect the mail. The letters are wrapped with draw string and kept in a file box in a drawer in her desk, which she makes sure to lock anytime she's not there to supervise it. Nick, on the other hand, leaves the letters from her proudly displayed on a noticeboard in his room. She's doing everything in her power to make sure Alan is fully blacked out from them, while Nick makes a point to have everyone know, almost subliminally, that he is not over Jessica Day.


	2. The Art of Interesting Letter Writing

**Disclaimer: I do not own New Girl or any of the characters.**

**This chapter is going to be 90% letters, hence the title.**

**Chapter 2 - The Art of Interesting Letter Writing**

* * *

_'Dear Jess,_

_I got a fancy new pen at the Guinness World Record museum and I was really excited about it because it was one of those picture-changing pens that moves when you look at it from different angles. Low and behold (I'm trying out new phrases), I lost it and now I'm back to writing with this boring pictureless pen._

_My mom called today to ask about you and how our relationship was going and I had to tell her that you abandoned me for the world of rain up north and now she's really upset because she hates Caroline. That was an awkward conversation. We also went with white furniture and I'm not allowed to sit on the couches until I learn not to spill crumbs everywhere. I literally had to sit cross legged on the floor to watch the Cubs game. I gotta say, Jess, I really miss having you as the only pushy woman in my life. Please don't stay up there too long,_

_Love Nick.'_

* * *

. . .

* * *

_'Dear Nick,_

_I'm sorry to hear about this traumatic stationary crisis you've gotten yourself into. Perhaps Santa will bring you a new one :) (Hey, I said I wanted to avoid technology, not the tech-lingo!) Anyway, Ol' Mama Miller will find peace with this new arrangement. She warmed up to me pretty quickly, didn't she? _

_The kids drove me slightly insane today. Apparently there's been some kind of feud between two girls over some falling out at a sleepover during the weekend and now the whole class is divided up into supporting sides for either one. Three times I tried to get them to work as groups but they kept refusing. In the end I had to give three kids detention slips, which you know I hate doing, and then I considered getting involved, but what kind of experience does that give them? Bitchiness between pre-teens is practically just accepted as a factor of growing up nowadays is it not? Cece and I had our fair share of playground spats with these two other girls called Jane and Rebecca and eventually a teacher got involved and now I have no idea how to handle confrontation. _

_Okay, I won't bore you with school talk too much longer, but I will leave you with this riddle one of the other teachers gave me today at lunch:_

_There was a green house.  
Inside the green house there was a white house.  
Inside the white house there was a red house.  
Inside the red house there were lots of babies._

_If you figure it out, the next time I send you a letter I'll tape a quarter to the envelope._

_All my love, _

_Jess._

* * *

"Nick, you've been staring at that letter for twenty minutes. Are we going to do this or not?"

Averting his gaze to his awaiting girlfriend, propped up against the bedframe with an impatient frown on her face, Nick promptly folds the letter in half and sets it down on the nightstand.

"Right, sorry."

His apology is met with a hungry kiss and as their lips touch, he cups her cheek in the palm of his hand, letting the other linger on her thigh.

This is to be their seventh attempt at creating a child, and this point, everything has become routine. She'll pull him away from whatever it is he's distracted by, i.e. Jess' letters, initiates pre-sex make-out sessions, foreplay and finally they'll delve right into it, _'it'_ lasting shorter and shorter the more times they get into this routine. So far, in the two months they've been trying, Caroline has been regular every month. Nick never knows whether to feel relieved or disappointed when she comes out of the bathroom, a look of chagrin spread across her face, since he's still on the fence about the whole 'baby' idea. But time is no longer on his side, so he hasn't got the grounds to be apprehensive about it if he wants to get serious about his life.

Thirty mundane, drab minutes later, Nick rolls back onto his side of the bed, running a hand through his hair as he stares vacantly at the ceiling.

"That was…" She sighs, not bothering to finish since the rest is pretty much implied.

"Yeah." He nods and purses his lips.

He feels a certain emptiness, dissatisfied desire burning a nagging void somewhere within him. This had been the second time his performance was weak and left them both eager to just forget it ever happened and go to sleep and he can't for the life of him figure out why.

"It'll be better next time." Caroline reassures, half trying to convince herself of it.

"Yeah." He repeats, knowing damn well that he's lying through his teeth.

They stay silent for a brief moment before they call it a night and hit the switch on the bedside lamp.

* * *

_'Dear Jess,_

_I've been sitting two hours past my shift at the bar trying to figure out the damn riddle. We've been apart too long, you're starting to think I actually have a sufficient amount of brain cells to figure out things that have clearly been invented just to stress Nick Miller out._

_Caroline wants me to invest in some shower gel that isn't from the dollar store because she has this theory that the cheap scent of Aloe Vera is driving a metaphorical wedge between us and having satisfactory sex. I personally don't think she gets to make that decision for me. I'm still living on tips from the bar._

_These letters are getting really difficult to make interesting. Please start an interesting conversation with someone or something and then tell me all about it. I'm not exactly the king of intriguing topics._

_The answer is a watermelon. Can I have my quarter yet?_

_Love,_

_Nick.'_

* * *

Jess rises at six-thirty, sitting attentively at the breakfast bar in her pink robe, drinking a cup of ginger infused tea. She keeps her eyes peeled on the clock looking out for the seven o'clock mail mark, anxiously awaiting her monthly fix of catalogue shopping from _Vintage Indulgence_ and to promptly escape to school to read Nick's letter she's been expecting for the past two days. They've become somewhat of an escape for Jess. For her to relive her life in the loft for one last time. She loves Alan more than anything, and this new life she's created for herself is more than she could have asked for. She has a swanky apartment with the mint green walls she's always admired, a generous salary with amazing new friends and she gets to drive to work without having to endure forty minutes of insufferable traffic. Which is why all of this letter writing and secrecy eats away at her at night, feeling like she's subconsciously cheating on Alan and everything she's gained since the move. She'd made a promise to him that she wouldn't be so attached to Nick or her old life, because she's one for reminiscing and then running back to those memories out of sentimentality and often runs the risk of giving into her urges and moving right back into the abandoned wasteland that is apartment 4D. Sure, she isn't throwing herself on top of him and declaring her boundless love for him, but it still feels sly. She's made a point to be as casual in her letters as she can, and makes sure not to overstep her bounds, but the problem is, she can't.

A few minutes later, after she's dumped the dregs of tea down the sink, she makes her way down to the lobby and rushes to the mail lockers, pushing her key into their apartment's lock and quickly discards the fliers for the Church of Christ in the trashcan by the elevator. She flips through each individual envelope, looking for the one marked with messy handwriting and lets out a victory sigh when she finally finds her address scrawled across the paper in his script.

The drive to work makes for an itching one at that. She can't get to her classroom soon enough to rip open the seal and read what interesting ventures he has to share with her this time. It's become somewhat of an addiction for her to follow up on his life, just out of sheer curiosity to find out if he's got a new dog, or if he's been promoted. It's generally just a desire to make sure that he hasn't died or anything. She mutters profanity under her breath at every red stoplight and accelerates onto the main road where the school is. Parking is a breeze since hers is the only car in the lot and she races up the steps to the entrance, dropping her bag off in the teacher's lockers and then scurries along to her classroom, taking quick baby steps so as not to slide on the newly waxed floors.

She takes a seat at her desk, looking up twice just to make sure she isn't being watched or anything and then rips open the envelope. The letter is folded so many times that she's almost sure he's trying to make her even more frustrated at the whole thing. She shouldn't be so antsy to read his letters, which generally contain sentence after sentence of irrelevant crap about toiletries and alcohol stocks. Nevertheless, she's too roped into her own excitement to stop and ponder it now.

* * *

_'Dear Nick,_

_If you're having problems in the bedroom, you guys need to take the conversation further than just what shower gel you're using. Maybe you need to initiate it better, like going out for dinner first or buying new underwear or something. I honestly can't help you from over three hundred miles away._

_I started a conversation with Patsy, the Vice Principal and I can't say that it's all too interesting other than that it's quite a controversial topic. Basically, they want to start teaching World Religions like they do in schools in Europe. She thinks it'll be good for restoring faith in the kids of Christian moms who have been getting angry at the system for taking away their faith. I said it should be an optional class, which I don't know that she will, but she said she'll take it on board._

_I'm thinking of dying my hair caramel brown. I'm just not feeling this dark brunette thing anymore. But I need a few opinions first, and I know that you get distracted easily when you try to think about stuff like this, so I found a link online where you can upload a picture and see how the person looks with a certain hair colour. Hairdressers use it all the time before dying client's hair. I'll email it to you later. I know that contradicts the letters, but I think this is an exception._

_Other than that I don't think I have much else to say. Writing interesting letters is your field, Nick. You're a writer, are you not? We should work out a strategy or a pen-pal book club or something. I've decided to re-watch the Walking Dead, so I guess that's something we can talk about. I still shield my face with the pillow every time the Walkers come on screen, but I'm kind of on board with what's going on. I really don't think Lori's getting the props she deserves. I mean, she's in a Zombie Apocalypse with a kid and she's managing to keep her relationship with that guy she was in a relationship with (I'm foggy with the names still) from Rick. Hey, his name sounds like your name! I just realized that._

_Okay, classes are about to start. I haven't got a riddle for you but I don't really want to make that a thing. It takes from the novelty._

_All my love,_

_Jess.'_

* * *

. . .

* * *

_'Dear Jess,_

_I went onto the link you sent me and I tried to find a good picture of you, but my 'Jess' folder only has so many decent pictures where your hair is actually visible. You tied it up so much for any pictures we took together. Anyway, it looks good but I don't think I could imagine you without your dark hair. It suits your name, as weird as that sounds. The choice is yours though. The guys will be all over you, dark hair or not._

_As for the religion thing, I think that's fine if it's optional. I'm not religious at all, so naturally I'm against the idea of it being taught in schools. I don't want to talk about religion, so I'm going to come up with another topic: Sukodu. What's up with that? Which moron one day woke up and said 'Hey, you know what would be a great pastime for travelling? Putting a bunch of numbers in individual squares and making people figure them out without repeating any of them in columns or rows.'_

_I've been trying these damn things for like three hours and I've thrown the pen so many times that I'm almost sure there's going to be a dent in the wall when I go to check it. Caroline thinks it'll improve my mathematical ability, but I just think it's raising my blood pressure to an unnecessary level. I can literally feel my skin getting hot whenever I see two nines in one box._

_Speaking of Caroline, I suggested the dinner idea but somehow it turned into talks of marriage. She thinks it'll form a stronger connection between us. I said yes just to make her happy but I'm kind of freaking out because I don't know that I'm really ready to move on from some other relationships I've been in. I know I'm cutting it short. I'm nearly 37 for God's sake, but you know me, Jess. I'm not one to rush into things without really being ready._

_I promise I'll have something lighter to talk about next time. I've just got a lot going on right now._

_Love,_

_Nick.'_


	3. Reading Between the Lines

**A short chapter just to conclude this stretch of prologue-like writing I've been engaging in. The chapters will most definitely be longer after this one and the story will begin to develop.**

**~Reading Between the Lines~**

* * *

She dismisses her class at the final bell and fishes her phone out of her bag. Punching in the numbers as abruptly as she can and biting her thumbnail, anxiously awaiting his voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey Al, I'm going to be a little late coming home, can you start the broccoli and the … Yeah the carrots … I've just got this meeting to go to, it was called at the last minute … Yes I'll stop at the pharmacy … Why do you need lozenges? You sound fine … Right … Yeah okay … Mkay, love you, bye."

She winces as she taps 'end call' and packs her phone away into the front pocket of her bag, buckling it in and throwing it down by the side of her desk. She takes her head in her hands and massages her temples with her fingertips. She hates lying. Especially to the one she's supposed to love and be one hundred per cent honest with one hundred per cent of the time. But if Alan figures out about Nick's letters, an elaborate lie she's been keeping from him for almost two months now, then the relationship between her and him with inevitably crumble.

She'd only lied to protect him. She'd only wanted to maintain her friendship with her room-mate of six years without any fussing around with the accusations imposed on her declaring that she'd been cheating. She'd wanted an innocent, old-fashioned source of communication; something she'd dreamt of doing since she was little. She'd never expected for anything weird to come of it. And now, here was Nick, hinting that he may or may not be over their relationship. Somehow, even from miles away, Nick had managed to screw something up.

The classroom is equivalent to that of a sauna, the insulated heat from the beating rays of the near-summer sun that gradually makes an effect on the thermometer on the board is also beginning to make its mark on Jess' once pin straight hair. Twenty minutes of valuable sleeping time gone down the drain. The letter from Nick pokes one of its corners out through the stacks of books and activity sheets in front of her, begging to be acknowledged for a second time. School had been taxing to say the least. The kids now have some new drama sparked supposedly on Facebook that Jess has tried to intervene in but to no avail, and now she's faced with the new challenge of coming up with suitable repercussions for bitchy note-sending in class. They'd blatantly ignored the documentary Jess had so gracefully picked up for them in turn for the exchange of dirty looks and silent scowls that she could see bared the potential threat of the girls ripping each other's skin off. On multiple occasions she'd been too caught up in her own thoughts and had accidently strayed off topic into the plotline of 'The Notebook' during a half-hearted discussion about the Civil War. Nicks letter had been at the forefront of her thoughts day in day out since she'd ripped the seal on the envelope, and as much as she tries to concentrate on her main priorities, he somehow snakes his way back into the vacant slivers of her jumbled thoughts.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Perhaps now that she's finished with the day and has Alan off her back, she's in a better state to actually read the letter instead of chickening out every time she lays eyes on the words that seem to hide some kind of cryptic message that only he, by speaking to her, can decipher. She gently tugs at the corner of the paper, lifting the books that hold it down, and flattens it out on the table in front of her. She pushes her glasses a little along the bridge of her nose and cups her cheeks in her hands, her elbows balancing unsteadily beneath them. Summoning some kind of a straight focus proves to be a laborious task. Her eyes scan the smudged blue ink Nick Miller had been so famous for since they'd began writing, and she smirks at his little Sudoku comment, anticipating the final few words that she's promised herself she won't over-analyse.

_I'm kind of freaking out because I don't know that I'm really ready to move on from some other relationships I've been in._

Taking into account that Nick is generally a very vague person, Jess tries to reassure herself he could be simply making a statement that could hold any meaning. He never actually goes into specifics about which relationships he's talking about, and therefore it should be assumed that it isn't their relationship that he's reeling over. Anyway, even if he is, they broke up for a reason that wasn't completely on negative grounds. He has every right to not be fully recovered from it, and she should probably pack up her worries and put them to the back of her mind. But as much as she tries to convince herself, she knows she's going to dwell on it at least twice as long as she anticipates.

Her first instinct is to say the meeting had been adjourned early and just return to her apartment, but then again, she really can't risk Alan finding this letter, especially since he's twice the over-thinker she is. She comes up with every possible alternative to burning the evidence and decides that, since this had been one of Nick's most heartfelt letters to her, since he'd confided his worries in her, she has no moral right to do anything except keep it and just try as best she can to make sure that hers are the only eyes to ever read the contents. A normal person would probably see this as a simple friend-on-friend support letter, but she isn't about to jeopardize her marriage, no matter what the circumstances.

She decides to use the remaining time that seems as though she has been at a meeting to pen down her response to Nick, and she plans on highlighting what exactly he'd meant by being not over certain relationships. She needs to get answers quickly before he travels up to Seattle, gets down on one knee and asks her to marry him without warning, as bizarre as it sounds. The heat is really getting to her.

* * *

Nick lies face-down on the couch. Los Angeles has been experiencing a scorcher of a heat wave for the last three days and somehow, lying with your skin squished up against cool leather is a great way to keep cool, despite the air conditioning being on twenty-four/seven. Caroline has opted for one of his shirts, since they're great for doing anything except keeping one warm, and black bicycle shorts. She looks positively deathly and ravaged. Sleep hasn't been coming easy in the heat and her hair has been layering on grease at an alarming rate now that everything and anything that she ever does is sweat profusely. Her make-up just melts the second she steps out of the cool-tiled bathroom and so far, her forty eight hour protect against perspiration leaves much to be desired in terms of protection.

"Hey Nick." She drags out as she approaches him, her head hanging in defeat of the hot weather. "This came for you. It has Jess' handwriting."

He sits up and takes it from her, trying to conceal the goofy smile he sometimes gets whenever Jess sends him his share of the letter writing deal. He hasn't smiled for Caroline all day and blames it on the heat, and he sure as hell isn't about to make her think otherwise. He doesn't know why exactly he gets so excited over Jess, but then again, she'd been such a huge part of his life that he can't really not be thrilled to hear from her.

"Thanks babe." He sighs under the humidity and sits back, running a hand through his hair. Caroline treks off into the kitchen and takes out a gallon-sized bottle of water, pouring it into individual glasses. She slides one over to Nick's end of the breakfast bar for him to retrieve whenever he decides to get off the couch, which he eventually does, and she sets off towards the living room, not wanting to have to endure watching her boyfriend read something that makes him so ecstatic from another girl. She's not opposed to the idea as such, but like any girlfriend, she's sceptical.

Nick takes the water and makes his way out to the balcony, sitting on one of the flimsy deck chairs that have been there forever, and he proceeds to tear open the envelope. He slides the paper out, and encased in the envelope, taped to the inside and making a narrow bulge in the side is a shiny silver quarter. He grins and inspects it against the sunlight, setting it down on the blisteringly hot metal table. He turns the letter over and begins to read the dainty cursive script Jess has become renowned for. At a first glance, the noticeable change in length gives him the confirmation that Jess has begun to either a) run out of things to say or b) is getting bored with the whole charade. Nevertheless, the importance of reading it is not dismissed and he immediately delves right into the angel-like handwriting.

* * *

_Dear Nick,_

_I think getting married would be really good for you! You're always talking about how you never do anything and how your future looks bleak, but this could be your window of opportunity. Seize the opportunity Nick. It's a unique way to start a letter, but my opening paragraph for letters book is running dry._

_Anyway, I really need to ask you about what you said in your last letter about not being over relationships. I'm sure it's nothing, but I just don't want you to be afraid to tell me if you're not over 'us.' You were probably just rambling, but just to be careful I thought I'd ask. And with that on the table, the ball is in your court, Miller. Write me back with something a little more enthralling than Sudoku._

_I will tell you that I'm running out of orange nail-polish and I'm kind of hoping it's not in fashion this season because I base my life around nail-polish covers and I've made an effort to not buy anything orange as of yet. That's about the only interesting thing I have to say._

_All my love,_

_Jess._

* * *

Not more than two days pass before she gets her answer. Blunt. No hidden messages. No reading between the lines. A simple answer that a fool could comprehend.

* * *

_Dear Jess,_

_I'm going to make this short and snappy, because I'm almost certain you won't be interested in anything else I have to say, and also because I'm taking a huge risk and being blunt is the easiest way to go ahead with it. You know I'm bad at suspense._

_I'm not going to pretend like I can be casual about this. Ever since we started writing to each other, I realize how in love with you I still am. Or did you think all those 'loves' at the end of my letters were in vain? I'm not over you, Jess, and I know you've moved on, but since you asked, I'm going to answer. I'm never going to be fully over you. I'm also sure I read in a magazine somewhere that yellow is going to be very big this season._

**_Love_**_,_

_Nick._


	4. The Purity of Being Spontaneous

**Disclaimer: I do not own New Girl or any of the characters.**

**Chapter 4 ~ The Purity of Being Spontaneous**

* * *

He waits for a few days, sitting impatiently, drumming his fingers on the counter, the burning anticipation creating a larger and emptier void as countless hours pass. Awaiting Caroline's call to him, announcing his letter from Jess, is something of a difficult task. He'd decided to send her two more letters just to see if maybe the other one had gotten lost in the mail or something, but still, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

He and Caroline try five more times in the time that he waits, and Caroline is almost certain her period is late, but one failed pregnancy test later, she realizes she's been betrayed by her own body and gets it two days after. They decide to take a break from trying to give them each time to unwind, since Nick has been on edge and has begun to lack motivation in the bedroom. They agree to just take a breather, refresh, and start up again from scratch in about a month or so. They've had the infertility discussion just to get it out of the way and they agree then to go to the doctors if after the month they've waited, there's still no sign of anything happening to throw any concerns of low sperm count out the window.

_"It's nothing against you, Nick. I just don't want to be that couple who finds out they aren't capable of having kids after two years of trying."_

_"No, I know that. I could never watch you be hit with something as devastating as that and then have it be my fault."_

_"Aw, Nick. I love you, honey."_

_"I love you too… honey."_

And he'd choked out those words with a little hesitation, since somewhere within him, something was screaming to him that his love lies elsewhere and that he definitely needs to stop talking before he ruins everything he's created for himself, even if it makes him unhappy. He imagines Jess anytime he says 'I love you' to Caroline, and as betraying as it sounds, it makes living the lie he's in a little easier.

However, Nick's primary concern is far from anything to do with Caroline, but more so to do with Jess and her eagerly awaited response to his letter. He hadn't really thought through his decision to tell her the truth, but somehow the briskness of the smudged, inky words that found their own way onto the page, bound a sheer, pure truth that he could never have excavated from the depths of his thoughts had he wasted those few precious seconds pondering his decision.

Alas, as life goes on as a mere hectic blur around him, the days drag on and Nick must have stared at Jess' letter board at least one hundred times, and in that time, no new mail finds its way into his hands.

A nagging sense of neglect on her part bugs him from dawn to dusk, but he tries to be reasonable about it. He can't expect for her to be one-hundred percent able to come with a liable response to such heavy, hard hitting news. Despite her asking, she probably hadn't expected for him to give her such a snappy response, nor for him to have been so blunt. Her new life called for a new beginning, and for him to have tarnished that, which would, to him, be unforgivable, but at least it's out in the open and she hasn't been left high and dry. Heck, she could even be considering matching his words by coming back down to L.A, arrive on his doorstep and throw her arms around his neck, a fiery passion left unfuelled for so long with eternal longing for the taste of his hard liquor on her rosy lips as they delve into a long awaited kiss, so powerful that the entire past is washed away; the break-up, Jess' move to Seattle, his life with Caroline. As though they're just using the vacancy of the loft to their advantage like old times, when Schmidt and Winston spent the night being booty-calls to their girlfriends. Their fingers entwined, his lips pressed gently to her neck as they hold one another for one last time. But all of that sounds ludicrous, just like all of his other expectations of his life and this euphoric picture he so often paints for himself as he lies awake at night, cushioning the painful blow of the harsh reality that withstands.

* * *

About three weeks into his stand-by period, staring longingly at his Jess wall, Caroline comes in from the morning mail collection with an envelope. Nick springs up from his seat at the breakfast bar, almost taking his bowl of cereal to a cruel fate with the kitchen floor. She hands him the letter with a tired smile, and to his dismay, when he takes it from her, the handwriting on the envelope is not Jess', but rather that of Schmidt's. He should have known going by the fancy metallic silver and the printed on red-ribbon that graces the top right-hand corner.

His excitement dwindles when he finally opens up the letter and scans over the way too fancy cursive script that reads '_Schmidt and Cece' _in gold at the top and the rest simply '_request the pleasure of your company to celebrate their wedding.'_

His attention isn't fully intact until he reads the whereabouts of the ceremony.

'_Saturday, December 19__th__ at 11:00a.m._

_Kerry Park, Queen Anne, Seattle._

_RSVP.'_

And then the rest is just decorated metallic swirls with a side-photo of Schmidt's arms around Cece's waist and his chin resting on her shoulder, a smile beaming a million ecstatic emotions that Nick envies him for.

Seattle. The wedding is going to be in _Seattle._ Had Jess recommended it to Cece? Or had it just been the easiest option since L.A. really isn't a hot-spot for fancy Schmidt/Cece weddings with chrysanthemums and the like, with fancy wine glasses and tables and chairs laid out with the finest white muslin table-cloths and flower-arches for the ceremony.

They'd seemed to have cut short the dates, since December nineteenth is less than four weeks away. _What is it with Cece and sending out the invitations on such short notice?_

None of that matters, though. The fact that he'll get to see Jess again, after almost three years of missing the excitement in her voice any time she sees her friends, and the glint of happiness in those twinkling blue eyes that never fails to die out, is something that he can't stop himself from smiling over. His only real obstacle from getting to see her and get to talk to her without the labour of having to dig out a nice pen and unwritten-on paper is Caroline.

Nick instantly takes to Google to check out this spot they've planned to hold the wedding at, and is pleasantly surprised by the views the area has to offer. Sure enough, it seems like a very Schmidt-ish place and although he'd have seen his best friend as being a swanky city guy when it comes to weddings, he can't say this place isn't in his style.

"Is it from Jess?" Caroline asks, deadpan, as she pads into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee.

Nick glances down at the silver foiled paper and brushes it onto his lap to hide it from his girlfriend, wary of having her join him up in Seattle, where Jess is and where he doesn't want conflict between the ex-girlfriend and the current girlfriend to arise. Not at his best friend's wedding.

"It's, uh. Just a letter from my mom. The cat's sick." He says, shutting his eyes as he forces the lie between his teeth.

"Again? What's up with it this time?"

"It… It died."

She turns around and raises an eyebrow, taking a sip from her coffee cup. "It _died? _That's a little more extreme than just sick."

He shakes his head. "Yeah, so I've gotta, you know… Go up to Chicago to support her. She loved that cat."

"Why can't your brother do it?"

Nick stares at her and blinks once, to which she nods her head and raises her cup, recognizing the idiocy of her question almost immediately. "Gotcha."

Nick folds the invitation envelope from beneath the bar and slips it into his pocket, running a hand across his stubble and scratching at it nervously.

"Do you want me to come up with you for moral support? I mean, I know it's over a cat and all but I'm sure your mom will appreciate it."

Nick shakes his head no, aware of both the fact that a) his mom _hates_ Caroline and b) he's flat out lying to her, and the cat probably died months ago.

"You know what, it might be best for her right now if it was just family."

"We're not a family?" Caroline asks sadly.

"No, we are _a_ family. Just, you know, _our_ family. As in my mom and my brothers and stuff. She's a very private person. Mom's weird like that."

She sighs and tips the rest of her coffee down the sink, seemingly uninterested in the bittersweet taste after the first few sips, and she makes her way towards the living room, patting Nick on the back as she does so.

"Just don't leave tomorrow morning without telling me. I can't afford to start doing your laundry too, I've got barely any time as it is."

"Don't worry, I won't."

He lets out a sigh of relief and runs a hand through his hair.

_How the hell are you going to get your way around this one, Miller?_

* * *

Nick had sent two letters since the last one, and Jess hadn't the heart to open either one for fear of him being upset with her. She'd been doing a lot of thinking since the last letter she'd sent to him, and upon reading of his true feelings for her, she'd been apprehensive about sending him one back. She'd never actually meant for him to have been so upfront with her, and she'd thought he'd have known that, but then again, she had been the one to lecture him on being open about his feelings.

This had all been a mistake. The whole letter writing charade. She'd been seeking out something from it for months. She was never sure if it was to rekindle the friendship spark that they were are risk of losing, or if it was just a filler for her own happiness that she can't seem to find in her current life. It isn't that she doesn't love Alan, or her job, or her home. It's just _lonely._ She'd packed up and left so fast and fled L.A without a second thought, and not once had she taken time out to consider the friendships she'd be leaving behind her. And now, three years later, it's coming back to haunt her. She'd experienced this once before, except it was just a general withdrawal that time, and she'd been sure that once she'd settled down and gotten married all of that would be behind her. And she couldn't have been more wrong.

She has to cut him some slack though. She'd never told him about Alan, he couldn't possibly know that he'd been intruding on something she'd been trying so hard to safeguard from all of her feelings about the past.

She sits at her desk. The bell had rung two hours ago and she'd told Alan she was going out to dinner with some of the teachers. School seems to be the only place she can vent outright and be honest with herself. Something about these yellow and red walls, decorated with endless mediocre drawings of the United States map, posters on times tables and fliers for various club meetings that ended weeks ago makes her feel more at home than her own home does.

The two unopened letters lay abandoned in the drawer just beneath her elbow, and at the simple turn of a key she could open them up and give in to the urge to find out what Nick has to say. For all she knows, they could just be about simple day-to-day things, like whether or not they should change to non-fat dairy milk rather than full fat, which she is somewhat of an expert on, since she'd attended that farmer's seminar in May 2013. She crosses her legs and bites down on the tip of the pen she's been using to grade papers, and clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She glances over at the window on the door, half expecting for the cleaning lady to bust in and interrupt her quiet time, but her attention is quickly averted to her vibrating phone. She starts from the unexpected sound and slides across into her messages.

* * *

_From Alan, Today at 16:45_

_Hey babe, a wedding invitation from Cece came today. I'm not sure if you saw it but I found it on the counter. I'll leave it out for you before I leave for my shift. Hope your dinner is going well,_

_Love Al._

* * *

She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles. Cece had told her of her engagement to Schmidt and she'd been excited for the day she'd finally get to see them at the altar together. She contemplates texting him back, but her mind is elsewhere and she doesn't want to end up sending something about Nick in the text.

She sets her phone down and bundles her papers into a corner on the desk. She stares down at the drawer and traces her finger along the lock, the key resting only centimetres from her reach. With one simple turn of said key, she could clear her thoughts of Nick for a little while. At the same time, she doesn't want to upset herself by reading Nick's letters, because now she's confused herself and doesn't know whether or not having him be upfront with her is something she wants since they're not in a place where any of that matters anymore. If he's out late one night and doesn't give her an explanation, she doesn't have the right to be suspicious, and she doesn't feel the need to have to check up on him. They're both free people living different lives and what he's written in his letters are but ink of paper and nothing can be acted upon since neither of them are willing to pack up their lives and try again.

Still, she's going to regret this someday, and for all she knows, he could be redeeming himself. He could have written about being sorry about all of that 'love crap' and make some kind of excuse saying he'd had a fight with Caroline, been taking advantage of his free liquor privileges and was in a dark place when he'd written it, and then she'd have fussed over nothing. She's still in a daze, so expectedly, nervous about opening anything else from him.

She makes an agreement with herself, that, if she still feels like it's worth it, she'll open the letters tomorrow. And once she's satisfied with this, she packs up the rest of her papers, clips them into her binder and puts them into her bag, taking her phone in her hand. She glances up at the clock. Four fifty-five. Alan should be heading to work right about now. She pushes open the door and glances back over her shoulder at her desk, now clean save for the jar of pencils and post-it notes in the corner. She shakes her head and starts out into the hallway, jingling her keys in her hand as she exits out into the parking lot, trying as hard as she can to supress her thoughts of Nick and those letters.

Upon reading the invite from Cece, she sends her a text expressing her gratitude for having the wedding so near to her apartment and how she's already got a million and one gift ideas noted down. She isn't aware that Nick has also been sent the same invite, and Cece makes no mention of it in her reply.

* * *

Alan doesn't come home until around two in the morning, while Jess lays on the couch watching reruns of Full House in her fleece pyjamas with a rather large cup of tea. She's greeted by a small peck on the lips and Alan lifts her feet to sit down before resting them across his lap.

"How was work?" She asks, her voice a little scratchy from being up so late.

"Oh, you know. Paperwork and spreadsheets aren't exactly too exciting of a topic to discuss."

"I know. I just like knowing you were at work and not out at some strip club with the guys."

She gives him a mischievous grin and he chuckles, placing his hand on her ankle and relaxing back into the couch.

They sit in silence for the next fifteen minutes to watch the end of the episode Jess had completely lost interest in. Strangely enough, it hadn't been until Alan came home that Jess began thinking about Nick. As though all of this had somehow transformed into a warped, vicious cycle of her new life bringing to light her old life, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room becomes tense, and Jess decides to make an excuse about being suddenly tired and frees herself from his grasp. She dips forward, the handle of her cup wrapped in one hand and the other around Alan's neck. She gives him another kiss, mutters a 'goodnight' and then makes her way to her room, feeling slightly guilty that she'd given him less than half an hour of her time. To be fair though, he works absurd hours, he can't expect her to be bursting with energy when she's been up almost all day.

* * *

She wakes up at around four. Sleep eludes her. It's still dark outside and she's only managed to get about thirty minutes of a light doze in before she gives up and throws on her pink robe. The same one she'd been wearing Nick had kissed her for the first time. Shivers run down her spine as her skin collides with the cool fabric, the November iciness relentlessly seeping its way into their apartment. She pads into the kitchen and sits at the table, taking her head in her hands. So much time has passed and this has been her third night without sleep. She has to get closure. She can't stay wondering forever. If Nick has something to say to her, he deserves to have her listen to him. She glances at the elevator doors and pulls her hair to one side, gently biting her lip as she considers the elaborate decision she's about to make. If she's snappy enough, she could get the doors open and escape the apartment before Alan can even notice she's gone. She looks over at their bedroom door and then back to the elevator before getting up from her chair. She takes her navy pea-coat from the coatrack and presses hard down on the elevator button, shuffling her weight between her feet. She slips in between the doors before they can fully open and immediately hits the button to close them again, staring up at the floor level she's on until she gets to the ground floor. Dammit if she has to wait any longer to read those letters, because she'd never imagined it would take her so little time to cave, and now she's craving everything she's deprived herself of since she'd locked them away.

* * *

Nick lies in bed on his side, looking out of the window. Their opaque black curtains do little to hold in the darkness, and from his window he can see the twinkling lights of Los Angeles, the office buildings with late night workers packing up and pouring into the stretch of traffic across the highway. He misses seeing Jess' handwriting. He misses the excitement he feels in the pit of his stomach when he gets a letter from her. He misses hearing all about her life and all of those random questions she has for him. He misses _her._ Whenever he closes his eyes, Jess' face appears. He envisions her, smiling at him in the early hours of the morning. Her long, dark curls tousled and dishevelled and her light blue eyes heavy with sleep. Her husky giggle as he wraps his arm across her pillow and strokes the tips of her hair, admiring the way her skin glows in the rays of the early sunshine. He wants nothing more than for that vision to be reality, like it once was. He doesn't want to have to look on the other side of him, because as much as he thinks he loves Caroline, all he feels is a temporary filler for the void he'd felt ever since Jess had walked out of his life, taking most of his happiness with her. All he wants is to know that somewhere, wherever she is, Jess still has that happiness hidden away somewhere within her, and that he doesn't only cross her thoughts whenever she pens down those words to him, because she sure as hell occupies his every hour of every day.

* * *

The classroom is exceptionally cold. No one's been in to turn up the thermostat evidently, since she'd had to unlock the doors to the school for the first time since she'd been working there. She practically sprints to her classroom, almost tripping twice. The fact that she's still dressed in her pyjamas doesn't help with how cold she is, but that's the least of her worries. She shoves the key into her desk drawer and shuffles through the papers, taking out the two slightly crumpled envelopes and rips them open with the scissors in her pencil jar. She takes a deep breath and reassures herself.

"Come on, Jess. Be brave."

She holds the letter to her chest and shuts her eyes, thinking through all of the worst things that could possibly come from reading these. They're all miniscule happenings, and none of them can do any trauma besides psychological, and she finally lets herself read the first one, sent a little while after _the letter._

* * *

_Dear Jess, _

_So it's been a while since you've written. I'm just double checking to make sure that my last letter didn't get lost in the mail or something._

_If you get this, but you didn't get the last one, don't worry about it. There was nothing important in it._

_Love, _

_Nick._

* * *

She wastes no time in getting to the next letter, barely giving herself time to process the contents of the last one.

* * *

_Dear Jess,_

_So I guess you're avoiding me right now, and that's totally fine. I don't know if this is because of the letter or because you're just moving on with your life, but I just want to let you know that I really hope you're doing well and that you don't throw away your old life with us clowns completely. I really don't know what I'd do without you in my life, even if you are over one hundred miles away. Everyone should have a Jess to make them happy when they're sad, even if I did reject your cupcakes on a few occasions._

_You can forget about 'us', but don't forget our friendship._

_Love,_

_Nick._

* * *

She leans back against her desk and blinks away the tears summoned by Nick's words. How could he _ever_ say that his love for her is 'nothing important?' Of course it's important. Except it is technically her fault for not responding to him fast enough.

She begins to regret rushing here to read the letters. There _was_ a reason she'd never wanted to, and she's only now rediscovered that reason. She makes the decision she'd never thought she'd have to make less than five minutes later, after letting a few tears run down her cheeks. She quickly brushes them away and pulls herself together. If she was going to do this, she'd have to do it now and she'd have to do it fast. She takes an envelope from the office a little down the hall and begins to scrawl as neatly as she possibly can onto a blank sheet of paper.

* * *

Nick sits on the couch. The T.V is off and all around, it's a pretty mundane setting. He has a cold cup of coffee in front of him and his thoughts are empty.

"This came for you." Caroline cuts him off from his little vacant dream land and drops an ink-smudged envelope in his lap. He thanks her and she's gone almost as quickly as she'd come in.

The ecstasy he feels upon seeing Jess' handwriting for the first time in weeks is something that he cannot fathom into words. He wastes no time in opening it and spreading it out on the coffee table, balancing his elbows on his knees as he reads it.

* * *

_Dear Nick,_

_I think maybe it's best for us to go our separate ways. Letters included. It's not healthy for us to be hanging on to the past when there's such a massive future to be explored. I'm sorry, Nick, you've been such a tremendous friend to me, and I'll never forget that. Good luck in everything, and I hope you and Caroline get lucky with the baby-making process. I know you're really excited to have kids._

_Goodbye Nick,_

_Jess._


	5. Unsent Letters Without an Envelope

** Disclaimer: I do not own New Girl or any of the characters**

**Chapter 5 ~Unsent Letters Without an Envelope~**

* * *

It's a struggle for Jess, more so than she thought it'd be. Something about not picking up that fountain pen and scrawling the black ink in cursive swirls every week feels wrong and quite withdrawing. She wants to. Man, does she want to, but she thinks it best for the both of them to refrain from giving in to the constant urge nagging in the bones of her hands and her fingertips to write and she tries to put every last ounce of that energy into her relationship with Alan.

If there's one thing to come out of all of giving up the letters that plays out in her favour, is that her sex life has improved significantly. Though the same can't be said for Nick.

* * *

They'd decided stop trying for a baby, but they hadn't stopped their recreational sex. Although they may as well have, because Caroline's been making herself dangerously distant from Nick, putting their relationship on the rocks and neither of them are willing to work at it. Mostly because Caroline doesn't see Nick as being too interested, which causes a chain reaction to make her less motivated to talk to him about it. She'd known letting Jess into his life once again would at some point take its toll on her and Nick, and in a way, she kind of deserves this, but as much as she wants to scream at Nick for ruining two and a half years' worth of romance, she also feels sorry for him. She'd seen that glint of excitement flash in Nick's eyes anytime she delivered the news of a new letter from Jess, and she'd never been able to see that from him whenever it was just the two of them without the obstacle of a half-folded paper with exceptionally fancy script that Caroline had envied.

Everything about Jess was perfect. She could see that. And if she could see it, then Nick could _definitely_ see it. So about a week after Nick had received Jess' final letter, Caroline had had enough of Nick being so affected by another woman, showing every emotion under the sun, and then being stone-cold expressionless whenever she, his _girlfriend, _ever tries to be affectionate with him, Caroline had asked Nick if any of this mattered to him anymore. They'd been cuddling, or they'd been doing Nick's definition of cuddling: one arm slung loosely around her shoulders, barely touching off her skin when she decided to bring it up. He said he didn't understand what she was talking about and it all erupted into a huge argument.

"What do you mean you _don't understand? _What isn't there to understand?"

"Well, given that there's absolutely no context to this, I think there's a lot to not understand."

"What is the matter with you? Ever since you started writing to that indecisive bitch you've acted like I'm just a _person_ who lives with you."

Ironically, Nick hadn't been fully engaged until she'd insulted Jess. It was then that he began to feel his cheeks glow fiery red and the vein in his neck made itself prominent. "What did you call her?"

She'd then thrown herself up off the couch and launched the magazine she'd been reading across the room. "Why do you care, Nick? She isn't _here _anymore. She left you, Nick. She left you for a stupid job! All she is, is a few meaningless words on a useless scrap of paper and you're acting like the Lord just fucking descended from the heavens anytime her name is mentioned in the same room as you. She isn't going to come running to our front door and throw her arms around you because you defend her so damn much."

Nick then stood up, clenching his jaw, but she continued on. "And not only that, Nick, but she's the one who's getting in the way of us having a baby. You don't even care about me, do you Nick? You're using me as a filler because you don't have the patience or the courage to be alone!"

Nick winces at her words, recalling the same string uttered from Jess' lips a mere few months before they'd gotten together. He'd opened his mouth to say something, but only empty air had found its way out in the form of an angry huff.

"You said you were fine with the letters, why is this suddenly my fault?"

"This isn't about the letters, Nick." Her voice suddenly becomes a lot quieter and calmer and she looks down at the hardwood floor, taking a deep breath. "Why did you lead me on for two years?"

"Why did _I _lead _you_ on? Need I remind you that_ you_ were the one who dated me twice and then drove me to alcoholism both times? I put the guys in a hell of a lot of debt over all those Kleenex boxes."

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, I know it was my fault those times but this time you're the one with blood on your hands."

"Just get to the point for god's sake, I've got work in two hours."

"The point is, is that I don't think you want to do this anymore. I know you picture Jess whenever we make love. I know you pretend you're saying 'I love you' to Jess instead of me. You think I'm dumb, Nick." She sighs and raises her hands in defeat. "I'm not dumb. I know you still love Jess."

He swallows as she looks at him, her expression practically saying everything for her. He shakes his head and tries to find the words to say. He can't lie. He _does_ still love Jess. But at the same time, even though she might have had the backbone to hurt him, he can't return the gesture. It's all too real for him. All he can do is look at her with the feeling of anguish burning a deep hole within him. He's hurt, she's hurt, even Jess is hurt despite being miles away. Somehow he's managed to screw everything up twice as bad and with worse consequences, because if he loses Caroline, Jess is no longer an option and he isn't about to go wandering the streets of Los Angeles, only a few measly years from turning forty. He had everything, and he'd screwed it up.

"Are you really going to Chicago, Nick?" She asks quietly.

He hesitates. The answer lingers on the tip of his tongue. Not everything has been eradicated just yet, though the future looks bleak. There's been irreparable damage done, any fool could see that, but at the same time, if he tells Caroline he's going to Seattle for a wedding, she'll automatically assume it's all a ploy to see Jess. An elaborate lie executed in the depths of his thoughts at the three in the morning as he skims through the board of letters from afar.

"I'm going to Chicago." He sighs, taking a step forward and cupping her face in his hand as he forces her to look at him. He brushes her thumb across her cheek and clenches his jaw, feeling all of her muscles tense at the contact. She's blinking away the tears that sting in her eyes as his next few words cut through her like a clean, sharp bladed knife. "And I don't think I'm coming back."

* * *

Jess and Alan go out for dinner one night on account of it being Jess' birthday. Nick had contemplated on sending her a card, just out of general courtesy, him being her best friend and boyfriend for almost four years, but had decided last minute that it was probably best not to.

They choose a bistro on a quaint little street Jess had found while out running one evening. The menu practically catered for everything Jess could ever want, alcohol included. So, she'd slipped on her favourite baby blue sundress and he'd slipped on a somewhat formal button-down and tie and they headed off at sunset to acquire the scenic views of Seattle from the balcony of the bistro.

As the late winter sunshine casts a dim shadow across her husband's face, she can't help but admire his high cheek bones and ice-blue eyes which contrast with the dark hair atop his head. He's definitely a long shot from Nick in terms of looks, except Nick is a different kind of handsome. One would rank him a 'scruffy type of handsome,' or at least she had. She thinks about him a lot. She sometimes wonders, if she had told Nick about Alan and her marriage, would they have gotten along, and what Nick's opinion of him would have been. They're polar opposites in terms of likes and dislikes, since Alan couldn't be bothered with baseball or football or the like and is far more interested in his work and in keeping a healthy, well maintained lifestyle. He's also quite the opposite of Jess. He isn't into singing or dancing at random intervals, baking isn't something he frequents whenever he's home, and he definitely doesn't have such an enthusiastic pursuit to own a dog. It's a tad baffling and something someone would definitely ask had it not been inexplicably rude and nosy as to why Jess had found a romance with him. She can't explain it. It just _happened._ And it's a question better left unasked, since the universe has odd ways of backfiring whenever you question your destiny.

And anyway, it's not as if Nick would care about Alan or anything to do with her new life, since he's renowned for living in his past, while Jess likes to move forward without dwelling on 'what ifs' and the sort. Instead, she cherishes every moment as it comes, and whatever happens isn't up to her. If the universe wants her with Nick, the universe will put her with Nick. But as of yet, the universe hasn't called her to his doorstep, and he hasn't called to hers, and for now, she's happy, and she'd like to keep it that way.

"Cece's wedding should be fun." Jess beams, breaking and dipping a piece of French bread into her tomato soup.

"I assume I'm going as your plus one."

"Actually, I think my mom's coming from Oregon…" She trails off, deadpan, but her voice is laced with sarcasm and playfulness.

He gives her a look of confusion, and after a few moments of silence, she glances up at him, a smile gracing her features as she takes a bite of the now soggy bread. "Of course you're my plus one. Why would I bring my _mom?_ I mean, I love her and all but…"

He laughs and throws a rolled-up piece of dough at her from the bread basket. She dodges it, not seeming to care all too much about ruining the ambience of the restaurant. Some of the other diners turn to give subtle looks of displeasure at the two, but they wave them off and sit up straight in their seats to maintain a somewhat mature façade.

Jess clears her throat and smooths out her skirt. She wipes her tomato-soup moustache from her top lip and places the napkin down across her lap.

"I'm glad they chose Kerry Park." She continues the conversation regarding her best friend's impending wedding.

"Did you suggest it to her?" He asks.

She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear and nods sheepishly. "I told that it was _of significance_." She says with the addition of air-quotes.

"And by '_of significance_' you mean the place where I proposed to you?"

She blushes and shakes her head. "I remember it, Al, it wasn't that long ago."

He chuckles and there's a brief moment of silence before Alan starts off his end of the conversation.

"Let's hope the weather holds up for them."

"Mm, let's." She agrees, bringing a spoonful of the tangy red soup to her lips.

"Where's she staying? And please don't say our place."

"Well, I suggested it to her but then I remembered she's married to Schmidt."

"I'm not familiar with this 'Schmidt' character."

"Oh don't worry, you will be." She says, a slight hint of sympathy in her tone.

"I'm guessing that's a bad thing?" He smiles.

She hesitates and shrugs. "It depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not your tolerance for douchebags is high on the day."

"Ah, so he's one of _those_ guys. Does he wear tight pants?"

She swallows another spoonful of her soup. "You betcha'."

"And cologne so powerful that even a homeless man would reject it?"

She nods.

"Does he drink tea?"

"Only if it's green and only if it's been endorsed by a celebrity over forty."

"Well he sounds easy going."

Jess giggles and pats her mouth dry, sliding her half-empty bowl across the table. "You want the rest?"

"You don't want it?"

Jess smirks. "I do, but I also want dessert, and I'm not going the extra mile on my run tomorrow morning."

"Jess, a little soup isn't going to do anything."

She tilts her head and clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth, averting her gaze to a floral arrangement by their table before looking back at him. "Al, we're going to a wedding in less than four weeks, I can't afford to take risks."

"I don't understand women." He mumbles and takes up the tomato-y offering.

"Don't worry." She grins, placing a hand on his forearm. "No men do."

The next morning she calls Cece and sits at the kitchen table with her left hand on her cheek and her elbow balancing on her wrist as her post-run hair still hangs messily from its hair-tie and her bangs dishevelled. She hasn't spoken properly to her best friend since she and her now fiancé had decided to ditch her for the wonderful plains of European meadows and the many cultures Jess is almost certain she's become accustomed to from being free of her American/Indian ways for almost three years. She'd only let the phone ring twice before Cece hastily picks up, squealing with excitement upon seeing the caller ID.

"Hey babe, how are you? How's the hubby?"

She giggles. "Hang on, let me check." She holds the speaker to her chest and calls over to Alan, whose busy cooking oatmeal on the stove. "How ya doin', hubby?"

He gives her a thumbs up and she returns the phone to her ear. "He's doing well. We're going to the shelter later. They're having this like tea slash coffee party where you get to drink tea slash coffee and hang out with other pet enthusiasts while also learning about abandoned dogs and cats and stuff."

"Now when you say '_were _going', you mean you're going and you're dragging him with you?"

"Yup." She smiles. "So tell me everything, when did he propose?"

There's a brief pause before she speaks up again. "Well… It's not that big a deal."

"Don't be silly, it's an enormous deal."

She hears Cece laugh a little and she can't help but laugh along with her until she finally answers. "It was actually a while ago[SG1] while we were in Southern France."

"Enchantée madame!" She chimes in in her best French accent. Alan whips around and gives her a funny look and she shakes her head, waving him off.

"He surprised me on the French Riviera and we were drinking wine on this yacht and suddenly during dessert he whips out this huge sparkly diamond ring. I nearly fell overboard."

"So I'm guessing it was a low-budget thing." Jess says sarcastically, popping a grape from the fruit bowl into her mouth.

"Oh definitely." Cece laughs. "So you're coming, right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

There's a sense of tension beginning to build on Cece's part but it's quickly discarded. "It's just, uh… You know with the whole… Actually, you know what, never mind. I don't even know why I asked that question, I've just been up all night to family in India organizing hotels and stuff."

"Do you guys have a hotel already?" Jess asks, and Alan turns around again, interested in knowing whether or not the answer will be in his favour since he isn't the great at housing people for more than one night.

"We actually were thinking of heading down to Los Angeles after the wedding for our honeymoon. We've been everywhere else already, there's no real special element in Europe anymore."

"Oh what a difficult life you lead, Cecelia." She teases, playing with a stem from the bunch of grapes. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"To answer your question, _Jessica_, I'm going to get ready at your place and Schmidt is going to get ready at once of his strange friend's house. The engagement was elaborate, the wedding is going to be subtle. We've got the minister all set to perform a Jewish and a Hindu ceremony to keep our families happy. I have no idea how we're going to pull that off but I'm trying not to think about it."

"I can't see how that could be a problem."

"And of course, I must ask you, as my dearest best friend, to be my maid of honour for a second time."

Jess, though she's been bracing for her to ask her the very question, can't hold in her screech of excitement. She darts up off her seat and launches herself at Alan, wrapping her arms around his waist and beaming up him, her eyes twinkling with delight. He starts and then rolls his eyes as she presses a very abrupt and excited kiss to his cheek and bounds back to her original seat.

"I will _totally_ be your maid of honour!" She giggles.

"I had assumed, I think you just burst my eardrum."

"I'm not sorry for it, you brought this upon yourself." Jess says, semi-seriously, but also very hyperactively.

"So talk to me, Jess. How's life in the States? Does Nick know about Alan yet?"

She scoffs and hesitates, glancing up at her husband who has his back turned to her yet again.

"Hold on."

He's on his own phone, and she decides to use his distraction as an opportunity for her to slip out of the kitchen and into her room so she doesn't actually spill any information about the letters in front of him.

She creeps into their room and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Okay. No he doesn't."

"He doesn't know about Alan or are we onto a completely different subject now?"

"No he doesn't know about Alan. Alan knows about Nick but Nick doesn't know about Alan."

She pinches the bridge of her nose to take in her own words as though she's hearing them for the first time and only just realizing how ludicrous it all really is.

"Why doesn't Nick know?" Cece asks with the same amount of confusion Jess harbours.

"I honestly don't know, Cees. It's complicated."

"Okay…? You wanna try to find an answer now?"

"I just don't wanna upset him, you know?"

"Why would you upset him? He's got Caroline."

She throws herself back on the bed and lies on her side, exhaling into the soft bedding as she buries her face in the pillow. She takes a little while to respond since she hasn't got an actual answer that makes sense to her.

"We've gotta go to the shelter so I need to get ready. Can we talk about this later?"

She hears Cece take a deep breath on the other line before speaking. "Mkay Jess, talk to you soon."

"Buh-bye."

And with that, she flings her phone about two feet in front of her onto the bed and shoves her face into the pillow, her thoughts suddenly beginning to flood with a million questions begging to be answered.

* * *

Caroline had walked out on Nick but had left all of her belongings behind, so despite him lying in bed alone for the first time in many months, he still has hope that she'll come back and they'll be able to talk like adults.

Except part of him doesn't want her to return.

At around three in the morning, after countless attempts at lulling himself to sleep in the isolated room occupied only by him and his thoughts and the faint ticking of the clock on the nightstand, he kicks the covers off and treks into the kitchen. He takes some coffee from the cupboard and a bottle of coffee liqueur and tips a small mixture of the two into individual shot glasses. He sets them down in front of him and rummages around the kitchen for a bit before pulling a piece of paper and a pen from one of the drawers. He rests his arms on the cool marble of the breakfast bar and rubs at his scratchy stubble with his thumb and forefinger. He considers what it is exactly that he's doing.

He knows she doesn't want him to write to her, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to write to her. He _needs_ to write to her. Even if he hadn't been on board to begin with, somehow this little quirk that they'd become so used to has found its way into his bloodstream and it has become somewhat of an addiction to see the words '_Dear Jess' _come out from beneath the tip of the pen. He doesn't have to mail the letters, and he doesn't even have to put them in an envelope. He just has to _write_ them, and somehow pray that Jess is lying in her bed and these words are finding their way into her thoughts as he writes them.

* * *

_Dear Jess, _

_Caroline's gone. I don't know whether she's gone, gone, but she's gone. I kind of expected it to happen sooner or later. Things haven't been so great between us. I'm pretty sure she'll come back before the weeks' end. She got really pissed off with me about not being in engaged in the relationship. I can't blame her, I do suck when it comes to that sort of stuff. This is why I need you here, Jess. To tell me what I'm doing wrong and how to fix it. I'm barely surviving out here._

_I'm thinking of getting a parrot. Unrelated, but whatever. Parrots are actually really awesome. I even came up with a drinking game. You could teach the parrot a trigger word, and put it in a room with a group of people and shot glasses filled with whiskey and whenever this parrot says the trigger word, you take a shot. I think I could make a real good profit out of that idea on the Apprentice for like, a game-making challenge or whatever. _

_So I got an invite to Cece's wedding, I'm sure you did too, you being her best friend and all. It's in Seattle, too! Hey, what a coincidence! The gang all back together, provided Winston got one. We could play the parrot drinking game, and we could incorporate it into true American. I miss that game, man, it's been so long. You've probably forgotten it by now with your big professional job up in Seattle, but you caught on pretty fast when we first played it. _

_So I'm tired now and I'm one more coffee shot away from looking up weird fetishes on the internet. I don't have a reason to, it's just nice to be aware of what sort of weird crap people are into in this world._

_Goodnight Jess, thanks for helping me to get tired. I guess it's pretty weird and all, me writing to you, except not really writing to you. _

_Love, _

_Nick._

* * *

He taps the pen against his chin, reviewing his work before folding it up and slipping it back into the drawer, making a note to get rid of it somehow before Caroline miraculously comes home, throws her arms open wide and falls to her knees begging for forgiveness. And it is at that moment when he starts to quote passages from that one church service he'd gone to two weeks ago that tells him he needs to sleep.

He pelvic-thrusts the drawer shut and runs a hand through his hair, feeling somewhat satisfied, but knowing the feeling is temporary as he makes his way back to his room, anticipating for this to become something of a routine thing for him in the many weeks to come.


	6. Going to the City Of the Letters

**Chapter 6 ~ Going to the City of the Letters**

* * *

A week closer to the wedding brings about familiar feelings on Nick's part. Feelings of dread and apprehension surface, and suddenly the whole idea of coming face to face with Jess, and all of the people he'd once spent a solid four years of his life with for perhaps a final time hits him like a cinder block.

He'd have to show up without Caroline. He'd have to live down his humiliation of telling Jess how he feels, and then have it thrown back in his face.

He buys a suit, and books his plane tickets to Seattle. He'd forced himself out of bed, tired and unable for the pressures of life. His sheets are left unwashed, and his laundry is piling up outside of his room. Something about the absence of Caroline's turquoise blouses always sticking out of the wash basket, no matter how many times she'd tried shoving it in created a cold air in the room. It had been something Nick had always acknowledged of knowing that Caroline had been there since the day they'd moved in, and it's almost as though, now, the whole 'tradition of it being gone has marked the end of them as a couple.

However, to keep him company, though not in a physical presence, is his letters to Jess. There's about fifteen letters now stacked up on the kitchen table, which Nick has tied with string to keep them from being discarded around the room. The envelopes have nothing written on them, bar a small date written in almost illegible script in the top right hand corners to distinguish when he'd written them.

A spot at the table is dedicated purely to writing the letters. Something about the way this particular spot is angled towards the window, letting sunlight spill in through the glass and across the dark oak, combined with the view of downtown L.A in the distance makes for a perfect spot for him to access his thoughts and express fully and clearly what it is he wants to say to Jess. Even if she doesn't read them, it's a release, and it's much cheaper than a therapist.

He doesn't realize he's doing it, but he waits for Caroline every day. It's as though he wants to believe she's just gone on vacation for a little bit, and that she'll be home soon. Not that she's _gone_. She'd called to ask him if she'd left anything there, but that had been it. She didn't discuss the terms they're on, she didn't try to reason with him, and it had all happened in less than two minutes with about fifteen words between each of them.

_If you find anything, call me. I'll collect it some time._

_Okay, will do._

_Bye._

And then she'd hung up, uninterested in hearing what he'd had to say.

He doesn't bother to check for anything either. He's too pre-occupied with living in a fantasy world. Just like Caroline had suggested.

He gets home, dumps his bags on the table, pretty satisfied that the suit fits, and makes his way to his spot at the table.

It's an overcast day. Dull and dark, with the lingering threat of rain at any given moment. It doesn't take from the sentiment of the entire act of letter writing, though it just puts a dampener of the general positivity he tries to excavate from the depressing aspect of everything. Still, he preservers and gets out his pen, which is close to running out of ink, and takes out a fresh page.

* * *

_Dear Jess,_

_Caroline came back for an hour yesterday. At first I thought she'd come to work things out, but turns out she'd just come to get her stuff._

_The only thing I really remember was going to bed and our room was full of our things, and then I woke up and suddenly half of the clothes were gone, her bedside lamp was gone and she took her phone charger. I don't have my own phone charger either, so now I'm going AWOL according to my boss. I'm kind of hoping some turn of miraculous events will come down and grace my credit score with a few extra digits so I can get a phone that doesn't break the second I lay it down a little too hard._

_Anyway, I guess I'll have to start taking this letter writing skill I've somehow adapted and apply it to the modern world. How funny would it be to be working in a doctor's office and have a letter asking about an appointment? I bet most doctors never even heard of using a pen, let alone seeing my name on an appointment schedule. That's actually two jokes in one, because I don't see doctors or use pens… You know what I mean._

_So, I'm pretty lonely right now. Can't call Caroline, can't use this as a way to live out a romantic movie montage where the whole thing goes to crap and the guy tries calling the girl and the girl's friends are like "How many messages from him now?" and she gives them some huge number in the high nineties. And I guess that puts her at a loss too because she's always talking about how she'd like to live out movie moments. She should have left the damn charger._

_So, I know I'll probably see you in a week at Cece's wedding. I have my suit picked out already. Hopefully you don't come in a purple dress because my tie is purple and we can't look like a couple. Unless you want to. I mean, I'm not dictating what you want to wear. It's totally fine, I just don't want things to be awkward._

_Unless you want things to be awkward. Which I don't know why you would want to be._

_I'm getting pretty delirious with lack of sleep now, so I'm going to sign off and try to get in a power nap or something._

_Love,_

_Nick._

* * *

Nick goes to work. Not willingly, but his bank account isn't having any more of this '_I need time off because my life sucks' _crap, and neither is the landlord.

The mundane setting of the bar on a Tuesday night is relaxing enough for him. There isn't a crazy demand for vodka-sodas, or countless shot glasses he'll be expected to clean up every twenty seconds, and the only typical customers are in their early sixties, and don't care too much for chit-chat. Exactly Nick's kind of environment.

He stands behind the bar, wiping down the oak repetitively to pass time. He's served nothing but Guinness all night, and the faint hum of music over the speakers keeps the mood relaxed.

He slings his towel over his shoulder and rolls his sleeves up, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the bar. He gives a half-hearted smile to a man named Bert who has just about to say as Nick does.

"What's troubling you, boy?" He asks, not making eye contact with Nick.

Nick frowns and shakes his head. "What do you mean?"

"Something's bothering you. And since no one else is going to come in and try to talk you out of that slump you've been in all night I guess it's my duty to ask."

Nick raises an eyebrow. This guy looks eerily like Tran, his park-bench friend, only he's got a short white beard, and he talks. His face isn't as nice either.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it, man. I'm just here to serve you drinks."

"I'm not going anywhere for the next three hours." Bert cuts in, downing the last of his drink and slamming the pint glass down on the counter. "So you'd better entertain me."

_When did the bartender-listens-to-depressed-customers cliché get swapped around?_

"Alright." Nick gives in after a brief pause. Bert glances up at him, his eyes dead and lacking the genuine concern one normally has in these situations. "There's a girl."

"Here we go." Bert groans. "You better pour me another one of these if this is a woe of love."

Nick agrees, and gets a fresh glass, pouring out another round of the dark brown liquid and handing it to him.

"Anyway. This girl." He begins, looking out across the bar as he tries to find the right way to explain. "We were together for three years or something like that. It was _perfect._ She was perfect. She had a big personality, but it worked because she was so small and full of energy. Her eyes were…" He shakes his head and lets out a small smile as he remembers Jess, blinking her tired eyes open in the mornings and smiling as their eyes met. "They were mesmerising. They were _really_ blue too. And you could lose yourself in them."

He winces as he suddenly realizes just how cheesy he's beginning to sound, and how off-topic he's getting. Bert is still looking ahead of him, neither of them really paying attention to one another's body language.

"But she got offered a job up in Seattle, and I had to let her go." He shuts his eyes and tries to rid his thoughts of the memories of that heart-wrenching day. "And then it just ended.

"Then I went back to my ex-girlfriend. She's great. She's got blue eyes too, but not like Jess'.

"Jess." Bert interjects, nodding his head in approval. "Nice name."

"Right?" Nick smiles. "Anyway, now my once not but now ex-girlfriend left me and I have to see Jess at this wedding next week. It's gonna be awkward."

"Why is it gonna be awkward?"

Nick hesitates, not fully sure he wants to reveal all of his life dilemmas to this random stranger he'd known for less than an hour and a half. However, he's not got much to lose, so there really isn't any harm in unloading a little.

He gives a curt smile and drums his fingers on the bar. Bert waits, now with a fresh frothy moustache on his top lip from his drink.

"Well, you've gotta promise not to laugh at me. We kind of sent letters. It wasn't all that big a deal, it was just something nice to do to keep in contact. She's kind of like that with things she likes."

"The lost art of letter writing." Bert trails off.

"Yeah…" Nick nods. "Anyway, I kind of told her I still have feelings for her in my last letter to her, and I scared her off."

"No surprise there."

"I know, man, it's always the way. But now I have to face her in Seattle next week and I honestly don't know how to do that. We had something great going and I ruined it. And by ruining that, I ruined my entire life. I'm a failure, Bert. Everyone said I would be." He pauses and sighs. "I guess they were right."

Bert slides his glass gently across the bar and gestures for him to top up. He then reaches into his pocket and takes out a packet of tobacco and a pack of skins, and sets a lighter down beside them.

"You can't smoke in here Bert. You gotta go outside."

Bert waves him off and dismisses his words. "I know, I'm just setting up.

"I'm gonna tell you something, kid. And I want you to listen carefully."

Nick hands the now-full glass back to him and rests his elbows on the bar, leaning close to the man. He's starting to smell of alcohol at this point, but it's nothing Nick isn't used to. He's just not as used to being so close to the people he serves.

"You're going through a rough patch. Everyone does. Trust me, I've lived long enough to know. It doesn't make you a failure, it makes you a human. So stop beating yourself up, get on that plane to Seattle, and keep your chin up. Once something bad happens, the universe has a funny way of making things right again."

Nick stares at Bert, his lips slightly parted.

"Moping about it isn't gonna do you any good. Change your attitude. You've got a lot going for ya. Look me in the eye and tell me you're not good at something that'll get you out of this rut."

He takes in a deep breath and glances up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Somehow this guy has found his way into Nick's thoughts, and is controlling every thought of his, since now he's being reminded of his Zombie novel that he'd never bothered to show anyone else bar his roommates.

"I guess I do have some projects with potential. I don't know that they'd be very successful or fix my life, but it's a start."

Bert leans back in his seat, his beer resting on the bar.

"See. There you go." He grins a toothy grin and begins to roll his tobacco in the skin.

And then, without another word, he's shuffling out towards the door, cigarette in hand, and Nick is left with a half-full glass of Guinness and a lot to think about.

* * *

_Dear Jess,_

_I had a conversation with this old guy at the bar today. He got really deep after I practically told him my life story. Apparently I'm not a failure, as much as I've convinced myself I am. It was inspiring, I won't lie._

_I'm ready for Seattle. Bring it on man!_

_Except one thing, I'm petrified of planes._

_Love,_

_Nick._

* * *

The morning before the wedding is hectic. Clothes are stuffed into one measly suitcase on the verge of busting open, his passport is nowhere to be found, and he's already feeling sick with nerves, both at the thought of a potential disaster on the plane, and at the thought of seeing Jess again.

It's even worse up in Seattle. Jess has been tending to Cece's every last need. They have the rehearsal dinner at two-thirty, and Jess is beginning to regret opting for a croissant after dinner the night before. She slips on her dress, requiring Alan's aid to get her zip up.

"I knew I should have gotten the blue one." She sighs, pulling her hair over to one side. "The lilac is washing me out completely."

"You look beautiful." Alan smiles, placing his hands on her shoulders as she looks at her reflection.

"Thanks honey." She smiles, kissing him gently on the lips. He pulls away at the sound of his text tone in his jeans pocket, and she pouts as he moves towards the bed to read the message.

Meanwhile, her phone beeps about two minutes later.

_Hey babe, it's Cece. I'm texting off Schmidt's phone. We really need your help setting up for the rehearsal dinner. Can you be here for half one? X_

She huffs and pulls her hair back into a ponytail, intending on fixing it once she gets to the hotel.

"Okay Al, I've gotta go help Cece out."

"Doesn't she have someone else to help?"

Jess pulls on a beige pea-coat with gold buttons and slips on a pair of plain purple flats.

"I'm the maid of honour. I've got responsibilities."

She leans down and kisses him on the cheek, vowing to see him before the rehearsal dinner, and gives him a stern _"_Iron that shirt before you get there, too!" And then flocks out the door, flustered, and still completely ignorant to the fact that her former boyfriend is on a plane to the exact same destination as her.

* * *

He walks through TSA with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. He's not normally one for dressing so slob-like, but hey, he's flying, and he is not going to be that asshole who insists on looking like David Beckham on lengthy plane-rides. It's lonely as hell. He's booked a late-night flight at three in the morning, since his funds are low and he can't afford a normal time.

For the first time in possibly his entire life of being in airports, he doesn't set off the metal detector. He sits impatiently at his gate, watching out the window at the runway. There are only four other people at the gate, and all of them are asleep. Heads on shoulders, drool spilling from lips onto shirts and the boring reminders not to leave baggage unattended are the only things Nick has to keep him entertained. He hasn't got enough money to afford the ridiculously expensive magazines at the little stalls, and frankly, he doesn't care for dull celebrities living their extravagant lives and naming their children absurd names.

It doesn't too much longer for the announcement that the gate he's waiting at is now open and ready for boarding. He lets out a sigh of relief and makes his way to the boarding ramp, the nerves now building up and bringing about a thin line of sweat on his forehead. He makes a note to practice his greeting to her, should she want to speak him, when he arrives. It's something he'd never thought he'd ever have to do, especially since it'd be way out of line for Jess to ignore _anyone_, but alas, things have changed, and he doesn't know what to expect anymore.

* * *

"Jess! Hey!" Cece squeals, fast-walking to her friend. "I'm so glad you're here. We need a hand with the flowers."

"Hey to you too!" Jess smiles. She drops her coat off and slings it over the chair where a small stack of coats have already found their way to and rubs her hands together to warm up, the December air laced with a bitterness that only catches up to her once she's standing still.

"Where do you want me to start?"

Cece turns and points to a small cluster of people huddled around a van near the entrance to the hotel.

"Over there. You just have to arrange the lilies into threes and tie ribbons on them."

Jess tips her glasses down and smirks. "I do know my way around a ribbon."

Cece beams and pats her on the shoulder.

"Great! Okay, I have to go and make sure our families aren't sitting too close together. It's bad enough Schmidt's mom and my mom have been giving each other death stares since they arrived." She says through gritted teeth.

Jess purses her lips and points towards the van. "I'm gonna go arrange flowers now."

"Awesome. I'm so happy to see you. I'll talk to you properly later, kay? I've just got a lot on my plate right now and-"

"Cece, it's fine, honestly! Go do what you've gotta do. We'll catch up soon." Jess calls back over her shoulder.

* * *

Inside the extravagant ballroom Cece and Schmidt have picked out for the reception, the clutter of decorations and chairs and tables make manoeuvring around to a spot where she can work in peace a difficult task.

Jess is on her fifth round of lilies, and has tied perfect bows on each. The flowers are snow-white and smell divine, and it takes everything in her power to not steal one and bring it home purely for the aroma. She makes small talk with one of Cece's relatives whom she'd met at Cece and Shivrang's wedding a few years back.

"So you're married now? How is married life treating you?"

"Oh, you know, it's better than living alone with forty cats."

"Enthusiastic. It's good to know you're married just to keep you from living a life among felines."

"I guess so!"

"So are you two planning on having children any time soon?"

She pauses and bites her lip, tying a sixth bow. "Uh… You know, we haven't really talked about it."

"How old are you?"

"I'm almost thirty-six."

"You really need to talk about it then."

She gives a fake smile as though to comply with the woman's wishes and nods her head. "Will do."

And that's practically it.

Cece arrives back, looking a tad less stressed.

"Hey Jess. You wanna go get something to eat?"

"Oh." She says, glancing down at the pieces she's compiled. "Well, I haven't really got much finished here."

"It's fine, you can continue after. We haven't seen each other in years! Come on, let's get lunch."

She smiles up at Cece and gently sets down the lilies she's working on, outstretching an arm for help getting up.

"Alright. Let's do it."

Cece clasps her hands together and they set off towards the exit, exciting over the whole wedding and everything that's happened since they've been apart.

* * *

They set off to a little Italian-style café a few blocks from the hotel. Jess orders a standard club sandwich and Cece orders a chef's salad, hell bent on keeping carbs off until after the wedding.

"So, you're marrying my old roommate." Jess says, her eyes wide. "That's _crazy._"

"I know!" Cece smiles, admiring her engagement ring. "He splashed out too, I mean look at the size of this."

She exhibits her ring proudly, and Jess takes her hand to get a closer look.

"That is one big rock. Your finger is gonna have like, tiny muscles coming out of it from supporting that thing."

"Okay." Cece grins, taking her fork to her food and stabbing through a few leaves of lettuce. "Enough about me. Let's talk about you."

Jess shrugs and gives her a half-smile. "What do you wanna know?"

"What do I wanna know? What _don't _I want to know?"

Jess raises an eyebrow and pats her mouth with her napkin.

"Okay, well. I'm married-"

"I know that." Cece cuts in, her tone suddenly becoming lower and a little more playful. "Have you seen Nick since you moved?"

Jess almost chokes on her water as the sound of his name makes her muscles tense and her jaw clench.

"I'm sorry, what?" She coughs, setting her drink down.

"I'm just curious. I mean, you couldn't have _completely_ cut off contact with him."

"No…" She trails off, unsure of where to take the conversation. "It's just with Alan and all. It's awkward. I'm sure we'll get to talk again eventually."

_And hopefully that's the end of that conversation._

Cece narrows her eyes.

"What do you mean it's 'awkward.' What's awkward? Nick understands why you moved. Of course he understands that you've moved on."

There's a painful silence as Jess nibbles at the crust of her sandwich, avoiding eye contact with Cece.

"We'll talk soon, I promise."

Cece leans back and folds her arms. "Damn right you will." She says, sharply.

Jess glances up. "What?"

"Damn right you'll talk soon."

She tilts her head, now suddenly very afraid of how demanding her friend is being, and also how sure of herself she is.

"What do you mean?" She asks, apprehensively, not knowing that she wants the answer.

_Cece's never like this. It's like she's more upset by Nick and my breakup more than I am._

"Because." Cece smiles deviously, taking a sip of her water and crossing her legs.

"Because…?" Jess leans forward a little, her elbows resting on the table as she awaits her answer.

"Because." She continues. "I invited him."

Jess freezes. Everything suddenly seems to close in on her, and Cece seems to be talking a lot slower than she actually is.

She has to restrain herself from raising her voice.

"You did what?" Jess whisper-screams. "Why on _earth_ would you invite him?"

"He's Schmidt's best friend, Jess. I was hardly gonna banish him from the wedding."

Jess leans back in her seat, pinching her nose with her thumb and forefinger and lets out a sigh of exasperation.

"Oh my god."

A million and one problems now come to light.

How the _hell_ does she face Nick after everything that had happened in the past few weeks?

How does she keep Nick from finding out about Alan?

And the question that is going to burden her the most in the next twenty-four hours: How does she stop herself from falling in love with Nick all over again?


	7. Marquees and Sarees

**Hey Sophie, where the hell did you go? Two damn weeks before you actually managed to upload? This is absurd.**

**Apologies friends! I took a small break from writing since I've been so damn busy recently. Alas, I have picked up where I left off and managed to write you all chapter 7! Enjoy**

**Chapter 7 ~ Marquees and Sarees**

* * *

Jess sits on her balcony in a powder blue robe and pink flannel pyjamas overlooking the city. The lights from the skyscrapers and offices within them reflect, twinkle and dance in the ripples of the water. The night is damp, but the rain has kept away for the majority of the night.

She'd made herself a cup of hot, weak tea in the hopes of somehow lulling herself to sleep, which hasn't been coming too easily to her as the day of Cece's wedding draws nearer. Her anxieties are beginning to build. Facing Nick and knowing exactly what will be going through his mind when he sees her is definitely enough to make her want to scrap the whole thing and get on a plane to Alaska, as far away from him as possible.

She can already picture it: Him saying 'Hey Jess, it's good to see you.' And her hearing 'Hey Jess, I'm head over heels in love with you and want to run off to New York with you and marry and have three kids and a border collie.'

She shakes the thought from her head and props her elbows up on the table, cupping her face in her hands as she looks out below her.

In the grand scheme of things, Jess' problems are a mere micro-morsel to those uninvolved. It's at times like these when she wishes she had an undo button to press and put everything back to normal.

Before today, everything had been under her control. Nick had only been a few words on a page and a distant, but fond, memory. But now, a mild threat has quickly evolved into a code red in her books, and has already begun to affect everything without even having started.

She isn't going to let it get the better of her, that's what she tells herself. She isn't about to lose everything she's built for herself over a little intimidation. Besides, what he told her is still only between the two of them. Things can only get bad if she lets them.

It's only one day. How much can go wrong in a day?

* * *

_"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are about to make our descent into Tacoma International Airport. Conditions are overcast, with a slight drizzle, temperatures are approximately fifty-three degrees fahrenheit. For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the fasten seatbelts signs are turned off. Trays and seats are required to be in the upright position, and we ask that all electronics, including cellphones, MP3 players and e-Readers are switched off as we commence landing._

_Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought on-board and please use caution when opening the overhead bins as heavy items may shifted around during the flight._

_If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will be happy to assist you._

_We remind you to refrain from smoking until inside the terminal, and to smoke in the designated areas._

_Thank you for flying with American Airlines, and we hope you've enjoyed your flight."_

Nick rests his head against the back of the seat, peering out of the small airplane window as the land below him makes itself known from beneath the clouds. He searches the city underneath him, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach at the knowledge of Jess being somewhere among all the trees and buildings.

The plane begins jerking as it moves downwards, easing the pressure in the cabin. He's thankful to be seeing freedom from this horribly stuffy and mundane setting, with barely a few inches of leg room and a throbbing pain in his head from his ears having popped upon take-off. The sooner he gets off, the better.

After a few moments of dread, the plane finally touches down, drawing obnoxious applause from some group of teenagers up the front, and thus, causing Nick to roll his eyes and refrain from throwing his empty coffee-cup at them.

Once they've parked at the terminal, Nick retrieves his backpack from the overhead bins, slings it over one shoulder, and makes a swift exit from the plane, eager to see the back of the airport before he's driven to insanity.

Luckily for him, it's early enough in the day, meaning the airport isn't dreadfully packed with the expected humdrum of children running around the place, the threat of tripping over suitcases bigger than the people that are carrying them, or a million and one queues to get anywhere. It's quiet enough to the point where Nick can actually hear the solid echo of the terminal he's in from the murmurs of security guards and the other passengers who'd been on his flight.

All in all, there hasn't been much to complain about.

He takes his phone out from his hoodie pocket and scrolls through his notes to see whereabouts it is he's setting off to.

Prior to flying out, he'd called Schmidt to ask about accommodation. Since his funds are embarrassingly low, and he still holds strong that hotels are corporate conspiracies that force people into disease-riddled rooms to kill them off, he'd pretty much pleaded with him to take him in. He's not one hundred percent sure as to where Schmidt's staying, but even if it is a hotel, at least he won't be paying full price for it, thus, he isn't technically buying into the conspiracy.

As he strides out of the airport, one hand locked onto the strap of his bag, he almost misses the all-too familiar face of his once roommate, standing proudly with slicked back dark hair, in a navy and white button down and way too tight jeans. Somehow, despite being in so many gastronomically influenced countries, he'd managed to maintain his old, toned figure.

Same old Schmidt.

"What's up, broseph!"

"I feel like I should jar you for that, but I don't think I have that authority over you anymore." He half-smiles as he nears him.

"Bring it in, man! I haven't seen you in forever." Schmidt beams.

Reluctantly, Nick drops his bag and throws his arms around him.

Hugging, or 'br-ugging' as Schmidt calls it, is unsurprisingly the last thing Nick has missed about living with him. But, and though he won't admit it, it is the kind of thing he needs right now. That, and a six pack of beer.

"How've you been?" He asks, his voice still a little messed up from the flight. "Did you have a good time in Europe, doing cultural stuff and crap?"

Schmidt smirks. "I'm getting married aren't I?"

"Was that the only reason you spent three and a half years there?"

"Nah man. It was great. I can order wine, and demand rooms with ocean views in seven different languages."

"Very useful." Nick replies sarcastically.

"Non trattenere il rosso, cameriere." He cuts in, disregarding Nick's blatant lack of interest.

"There it is."

Nick picks his bag up from the floor and pats Schmidt on the arm.

"You ready to go? I've got a Benz out waiting for us." He holds up a set of keys and jingles them in the same obnoxious way that he always does.

"Come on, man." Nick laughs. "You're hardly that loaded."

"Maybe not, but rentals come pretty expensive nowadays."

"You rented a car?" Nick asks in disbelief. "Am I talking to a different Schmidt or something?"

"Same old Schmidt, mixed with a hint of genuine Italian fettuccine and a hell of a lot more experience." He edges closer and puts his hand to the side of his face. "Sexually and culturally."

Nick grimaces and pushes him away.

"Please stop talking."

"So anyway, what are you doing away from all the festivities? Didn't you hire a chauffeur or something to collect all your guests so you could go get a massage or whatever the hell kind of thing grooms normally do?"

Schmidt frowns. "I wasn't about to let my old roommate of eleven years get stranded in a strange foreign airport."

"This isn't a foreign air-."

"Are you going to judge my motives all day or are we gonna head back to my apartment and have a two-man bachelor party?"

Nick raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the idea. Mostly because bachelor parties equal alcohol, but then again, Schmidt has his own way of doing everything.

"Two-man bachelor party? Care to expand on that?"

Schmidt takes out a small notebook with a leather cover and a giant 'S' stamped across the front. Nick doesn't even have time to roll his eyes before Schmidt's already waving it in his face and forcing him to look at the black ink scrawled across the pages.

_Schmidty's Own/Two-man bachelor party_

_Guest list : Nicholas Miller_

_Itinerary: Drink, drink, drink, discuss the economy crisis, more drinking._

Nick purses his lips and pushes the book away from him.

"Sounds like a plan. I'm in. Please tell me we don't have to stop off and buy the stuff."

Schmidt pauses and narrows his eyes.

"Somehow…" He trails off. "You've become more grumpy."

"Yeah, well."

"Did something happen?"

Nick shrugs.

"Seriously Nick? Look, I know I've been gone a long time but I sure as hell know when you've got something going on."

"I haven't got anything going on." Nick insists, knowing damn well that no matter how much he tries to build a wall to fence of his feelings, Schmidt is going to break through and call him out on them.

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to figure it out?"

Nick pats him on the shoulder. "Good luck with it, buddy, because whatever you think there is to be figured out doesn't need to be figured out."

"Hm." Schmidt analyzes Nick's facial expression, seeking out some kind of a clue.

"You know what, forget about it. Let's just go let loose and worry about everything later."

Nick points and smiles. "That, my friend, is the best idea you've had since I got here."

They set off towards the exit, Nick slightly happier that all he has to worry about for the next couple of hours is Schmidt's douchebaggery, and jet lag.

* * *

They arrive at a pretty basic establishment just a few minutes drive from the location of the wedding. For Schmidt, it's below his usual standards. For Nick, it's just the right amount of fancy.

The walls are wood-panelled and the floor is carpeted.

"Welcome to casa de Schmidt. Two bedroom." Schmidt announces as they enter through the front door. "I got it for seven hundred a month."

"Woah, wait." Nick says, raising his hands to halt Schmidt's speech. "You live here? You mean you're not just stopping here and moving on?"

"Cece practically begged me to stay here for at least a year. She missed Jess. I told her that not everything in life can come up caramel, referring to to her skin tone, cleverly, I might add."

"Right, not offensive at all."

"And we came to a compromise and decided to stay in Seattle for a while, and if we think it's good enough to start a family."

"Family?!" Nick cuts in, taken aback.

He nods in response and continues his enthralling tales of his escapades.

"Then we'll stay put and invest in a much bigger place. If not, we're headed off to the Costa del Sol for another few months. I'm semi-fluent in Spanish now."

"You spent a lot of time in Spain then?"

Schmidt grins and moves over to one of the suitcases stacked up by one of the bedrooms. Nick follows, and sits on the arm of a couch.

"Allow me to take you through the many provincias de España."

Nick leans back against the edge of the couch and lets out a prolonged sigh.

"This oughta be fun."

They spend the rest of the night talking about Schmidt's time in places other than Spain, and Nick tells Schmidt about Caroline after a few glasses of bourbon. Schmidt tries to be consoling, but fails miserably as he trails off into a conversation about how beautiful Cece'd looked in Greece, in her toga-like attire. Nick let him have his moment, since this trip is about him.

And anyway, he hadn't really wanted to talk about Caroline.

* * *

"Woah, where are you going with the suitcase?" Alan asks with a mouthful of toast.

"I'm the Maid of Honor. I have to be there early to help Cece get ready." Jess says matter off factly.

"I repeat: where are you going with the suitcase?"

"We don't have anything smaller, and I'm not about to run around the city with a handful of bags."

She snatches a slice of buttered toast from Alan's plate and wedges it between her teeth. "And anyway, Cece doesn't have a lot of beauty products. She never needed them when she went abroad."

Alan wraps his hand around the handle of his mug and gets up from his seat.

"Well." He starts, planting a soft kiss on Jess' cheek. "I'm going back to bed for two hours. If you're right about how this wedding's gonna pan out, I'll need a nap."

Jess purses her lips. "Okay, I won't be here when you wake up, so I'll see you later?"

He raises a hand and pads off towards their bedroom. "See ya later, love."

Jess watches as he disappears behind the threshold and shakes her head, taking a single bite from her toast.

"I'll need a nap too…" She mumbles.

* * *

Cece had requested that only Jess, her mother and her other bridesmaids be on-hand for her pre-ceremony hair and make-up prep.

So far, she'd managed to take care of her own make-up, apart from the henna tattoo she'd gotten the day before, but styling and curling her hair had been left to the expert, and the only person she knows to be fully dedicated to art: Jess.

She'd managed to style Cece's hair into perfect loose curls, enough so that they tumble past her shoulders and bounce gentle as she moves.

Jess sits on her bed opposite Cece, admiring her work as she puts the finishing touches on her eye-makeup.

"Jess, you've seriously got to stop biting your nails. I'm not waiting around for you to repaint them when I have to go get married in six hours." Cece says sternly, flicking her mascara wand through her lashes, coating a thick black layer on them.

"I'm sorry." Jess sighs, lowering her thumb from her mouth. "I'm just nervous."

Cece turns in her seat, faces Jess, and gives her a look of sympathy.

"Why are you nervous?"

"I don't know. I thought I had a pretty clear idea. Seeing Nick after all this time and showing up with a guy he doesn't know and then having to tell him that I'm married to him."

Cece narrows her eyes. "What do you mean he doesn't know?"

She shrugs. "I never told Nick about the wedding."

"But you guys have been talking, right?"

She nods.

"Then why didn't you tell him?" Cece asks, genuinely curious.

Jess pauses and holds a vacant stare, as though trying to find an answer for herself.

"Honestly Cece…" She sighs. "I don't know."

Cece sets her mascara down on the dressing table behind her. She clasps her hands together on her lap and leans forward.

"Trust me." She starts. "I know it sounds terrifying, seeing your ex for the first time in years. It's only harder because you didn't have a typical break up. No one cheated, there was no arguing. It was a pretty perfect relationship… A really perfect relationship."

"You're not helping." Jess cuts in.

"It sounds like you need closure. Did you two even talk about your feelings when you broke up or was it all just black and white?"

Jess hesitates. Recalling the events before her departure to Seattle is something she'd hoped she'd never had to do. Especially not under such unusual circumstances.

"No." She says quietly, suddenly finding interest in a piece of loose thread in her polka dot sweater. "We talked a little the night before I left."

Cece inches forward a little, holding her fist up to balance her chin.

"What'd you talk about?"

After a few moments, a smile creeps across Jess lips and her head drops slightly to hide her expression, not prepared to seem so vulnerable so early on in the day. She'd spent way too long building up a confident demeanor and she isn't about to have that torn down so quickly.

"We uh… we actually talked about cats for some strange reason."

"Cats? Really?" Cece grins, a slight edge to her voice.

"Yeah." Jess nods. "And Nick started yammering on about how he'd be more willing to take on three newborn babies at once that to take on a cat."

"Not father material then." She jokes

"He could have been." Jess sighs.

"Don't think like that." Cece advises. "What happened after?"

Jess lets out a breathy laugh.

"Then we just kind of got into bed and pretended that my room wasn't filled with boxes and he kept telling me how not having my hair to run his fingers through every night would make sleeping a lot harder." She sniffs and looks down at the ground, the memories from four bleak years ago becoming painfully difficult to withstand.

"You didn't talk about the fact that you were leaving?"

"Well, we were already broken up. We'd discussed everything before then."

"But you were in bed together?"

"Yeah." She sighs. "It was weird. He was helping tape up boxes and I drew a blank and accidentally packed away all my sheets and stuff, and he offered up his bed to me, and I said yes, obviously. We decided that our last night should be special, even if we weren't together. We just kind of reminisced on the times we had together, as a group and as a couple." She smiles softly. "Like when we drove to Mexico together. He cried a little."

Cece raises an eyebrow. "He cried?"

"He cried." Jess clarifies. "But to be fair, so did Winston."

Cece giggles, trying to lighten the mood. The mere thought of the guys and their old shenanigans is enough to evoke feelings of both excitement, happiness and upset. There's still an element of stubbornness in her trying to let go of her old life.

"So you talked about cats and Mexico as your last conversation? You guys didn't talk about anything else?" She drags out. It's as though peering into Jess' eyes reveals a hell of a lot more than what she's saying.

Jess bites her lip and shrugs.

"Well, see I can't be too sure. I could be totally wrong…"

"Out with it." Cece persists.

Jess scratches the side of her face, the reluctance to talk anymore quickly becoming more and more obvious.

"He told me he'd always… He'd always remember us." She says with a crack in her voice.

A single tear rolls down her cheek, and she quickly wipes it away with her forefinger.

His voice reciting those exact words begin to play on a loop in her inner thoughts, paralyzing her the same way that they did that night.

Since technically the last thing he'd said to her was by letter, the realness of it all begins to hit her like a bullet, and only now is she feeling the aftermath.

"But I mean, of course he'd say that." She says abruptly, trying to redeem herself. "He's sentimental that way."

Cece widens her eyes and gives Jess a half hearted smile. She takes a moment, watching as Jess unintentionally smears mascara and inky tears across her cheeks. She then reaches back and hands her a tissue from a drawer.

She accepts with shaky hands, not willing to accept that she's shedding tears over Nick after so many years.

"Sorry." She sighs, dabbing at her bloodshot and teary eyes. Her cheeks are flushed bright pink.

Cece outstretches her hand, placing it comfortingly on Jess' knee.

"Let it out, Jess. The break-up wasn't natural. It didn't happen fairly to either or you. But you have Alan."

Jess glances up at her, having momentarily forgotten that she's married.

"You're allowed to be upset about it." Cece continues, with a soft, but stern tone. "You're allowed to react as late as you want. But don't let that jeopardise your happiness. You've got to leave the past in the past, where it belongs. It might take years of getting over it, and living here, but eventually you will be able to move on."

Jess squeezes her eyes shut as she listens. Sometimes she really hates how wise Cece can be. She'd always prided herself of being self-sufficient and emotionally stable, but Cece often has a way of testing that.

Her dark eyes keep a strong hold between them, almost forbidding Jess to look away.

She'd been gone for a long time, but she'd never managed to lose her forwardness and intelligence regarding relationships, and other things Jess hasn't been the sharpest in.

"You're right." Jess says a tad more confidently.

"I know I'm right." She asserts. "So when you see Nick today, I don't want you to hide, or keep Alan away from him. I want you to be an adult about it. Talk to him and show him that you've moved on."

She gestures down at the mascara-stained tissue and then Jess' eyes.

"And I don't want for this at any point during the day." Cece teases. "Unless it's for Schmidt and I, or because the wine is so good you just can't stop yourself from crying."

"It's _that_ good?" Jess asks, disposing of the tissue in a nearby trashcan.

Cece nods.

"And." She continues. "You have to tell me all about everything that's happened here in the last few years once I'm married, because I am not about to be kept out of the loop for any longer than two weeks."

Jess purses her lips. "You want me to cram four years worth of information into one night?"

Cece gives her a devious smile and places a finger on Jess' nose playfully. "Ab-so-lutely."

"Jeez." Jess groans, batting her hand away. "It's like my first kiss all over again."

* * *

"Lookin' good, Schmidty." Nick smiles, standing a little bit away from his friend, amidst five other guys, whom he's sure are Schmidt's relatives. Going by the over-styled hair, some of which he can see his reflection in, there really is no doubt.

He'd only been there an hour and already they'd clocked up two-hundred dollars between them in douchey comments.

_"Bro, you're looking dope in those threads Schmidt!"_

_"Hell yeah, bring it in G-Dog!"_

_"G-Dog? Really?"_

_"Well see his name is Gabriel, so the G stands for Gab-"_

_"I gathered, thanks."_

Once dressed and ready to go, Nick had spent a good fifteen minutes analyzing the wedding invitations to keep himself occupied while Schmidt gets prepped for the festivities. The strength of the aftershaves and colognes that he's been bathed in isn't far off from choking him, but out of respect, Nick stays quiet and keeps his judgements to himself, though not refraining from letting out the odd cough to clear the fumes from his lungs.

The room is full of men and women all dressed up in the same suits with pretty much the same haircuts. He'd spotted Schmidt's cousin, Schmidt, but hadn't really had a chance to talk to him since he seemed to have been to pre-occupied in making sure that there are no fly-away hairs at the service.

Something he's told himself over and over again not to do is come up with a speech for when he sees Jess. A general conversation about life in Seattle and how she's getting on at her new job should suffice had it been anyone else in his position, but to him, he has to come up with a script-like plan so he doesn't screw up and ruin probably one of his last chances to see her and talk to her.

He stares down vacantly at the piece of paper in his hands, looking less and less like he's concentrating on the contents of the invite. Eventually, a curious cousin of Schmidt's comes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder. He glances up, slightly taken aback by what he sees.

This cousin isn't like the rest of Schmidt's 'clan' as he refers to it. No, this one is a woman. And not a terrible looking one at that.

She doesn't resemble Schmidt in any way, shape or form, though she does bear an uncanny resemblance to some of the other guys in the room. Her long, glossy dark hair is kept back off her face and tied back into a high pony tail, wrapped with a strand of loose hair to keep it in place. She's dressed in a form-fitting blue dress that just reaches her knees, complimenting and accentuating every curve on her body. She keeps an impeccably straight posture, with one hand placed on her hip, and is made to be quite tall in patent leather black stilettos.

"Y'okay there? You've been staring at that thing for ages now." She narrows her eyes and tilts her head a little. "You're not having a stroke or anything are you?"

Nick shakes his head and glances up at the woman, setting the invitation down at his side. He scratches the back of his neck and tries to come up with an excuse.

"No, uh… I'm still pretty let lagged. Damn cheap flights, am I right?" He jokes.

"I hear ya. We flew down from Buffalo. My ears are still pretty badly popped. I'm, Abigail by the way. Gabriel's sister. You can call me Abi." He says, outstretching his hand.

"I'm Nick. Flew out from Los Angeles last night."

"Ooh." Abi says, dipping backwards slightly. "The big city. You from there?"

"No, I'm from Chicago." Nick smiles. "Cubs fan, born and raised."

"Well, Cubs fan." if you're not too jet lagged we could really use a hand getting to the reception." She points over to a man, slumped over with his head in his heads and his tie undone. "James was supposed to drive us, but he got wasted. He just went through a pretty tough break-up."

Nick nods. "I know the feeling."

"Great!" Abi claps her hands together and pats Nick on the shoulder before stepping into the centre of the room.

"Attention everyone! Since James is in absolutely _no_ state to drive us, my good friend Nick has agreed to take his place." She gestures towards Nick, who has quickly begun to regret his decision. Not even an hour before the wedding and already he's been getting too much attention.

A small applause fills the room, and he hears Schmidt call at him from way across the room.

"Nicholas, my man!"

Nick excuses himself from the room and heads off into the bedroom Schmidt had given him the previous day. He shuts the door behind him, adamant that no one follows him given the extent of the situation. He vows to give himself five minutes alone before he cracks under the pressure of being a chauffeur and dealing with everyone trying to 'find out more about him.' He knows the majority of Schmidt's family, but a handful of people here that he can't put a name on, and he'd rather keep it that way. There's a small sacredness in knowing only a fraction of your friend's family, and that sacredness can be easily tarnished.

He goes to retrieve his backpack from the corner of the room and rummages around inside of it until he finds the item sought after: A small cardboard box.

He takes it from the bottom of the bag and sets it on the bed, running a careful finger across the surface before he lifts the lid.

Inside are a small collection of letters he'd kept rom Jess, plus the ones he'd never mailed to her. He'd brought them as a sort of sentiment to reminisce in, to find some kind of happiness in so that he wouldn't appear at the wedding sporting a grouchy expression, or snap at any of the other guests.

He takes one out and unfolds it, taking a deep breath as he proceeds to read into the contents, not sure of what to expect from it since he'd never bothered to label which ones were which. For all he knows, it could be the one about the watermelon riddle.

_Dear Nick, _

_I think I left one of my recipes for lemon meringue pie back at the loft. I don't know how or why I would have done this, but I really need it because I want to be one of those grandmas who have their own recipe book. It was always my dream when I was a kid to start a family tradition. I'm not all that passionate about it, but I'm not about to pass up the opportunity. Just mail it back with your response letter, that is, if you can find it._

_I've found one thing great about Seattle that I never thought I'd find great about anywhere. The views of the city. I stepped out onto my balcony last night and I swear to you I felt like a million people were on my doorstep, that's how immersed in the atmosphere I was. I heard this old couple on their balcony beneath us talking about a war documentary they'd seen, and it made me want to watch said war documentary, because the way they talked about it made it seem like my life would just be empty without it. I never actually found it online, but I needn't have bothered, because they talked so much about it so vividly that the scenes played in my head._

_Notice how I totally drifted off topic there. But yes, the views of the city are marvelous. You know how in the pictures of the Seattle skyline you can see water? I can see that water without looking at Google Images. And then the water reflects the lights from the buildings and they look like the stars have been warped and dragged across the earth. It's mesmerizing. _

_I'm going to start reading your drafts of the stories that you started and never finished, and then I'm going to mail you back the endings I want them to have, because with the Christmas vacation coming up I'm going to need something to pass the time before I head back to Oregon for the holidays. Be prepared to have old memories dug up, Miller!_

_Love, _

_Jess._

He folds the letter back up and takes a deep breath.

He remembers that letter distinctly. It hadn't been their first, but it had been somewhere within the fourth or fifth time they'd written to each other. The time the letter was written was around the same time as today. A time when everything had seemed easy enough, and when he hadn't gone and ruined everything for what could very well be the last time.

He lies back on the bed, turning onto his side so he faces the wall.

He has a chance to redeem himself, and a chance to apologize to her. He could put all of this right in a matter of hours. It's his choice, but the question he asks himself is: will he take it?

* * *

Cece's dressed in a scarlet wedding saree, gold emblazoned and with small gems across the waist. She's opted out of the heavy gold jewelry that she'd been pining over for weeks before.

She stands on a small pedestal with her mother and one of her cousins adjusting the hem and angles of her wrap so that they don't come loose during the ceremony.

"You look beautiful." Jess beams. "You're like an alpha-goddess. Like you could just walk into a room and declare yourself queen."

Cece gives her a nervous smile in response and lowers her head a little.

Jess takes a step towards her and takes both her hands, tugging them a little in optimism. "Hey, you're going to be fine! You love Schmidt. He loves you. I mean, you guys spent three whole years on a totally different continent together and you never got sick of each other. That, my friend, is true love right there. It's going to be amazing, I promise you that. Don't worry about it."

Cece sighs and looks up into her friends eyes, comforted by her soft, yet excited tone.

"Thanks Jess." She smiles. "And don't you worry either." She says sternly, pointing a finger at her. "Remember what we talked about."

They each stay silent, exchanging looks of nervousness and excitation.

Jess draws in a deep breath. Everything is beginning to speed up and it'll only be a matter of time before she's inevitably forced to look Nick in the eye and pretend like the man her arm is linked onto doesn't exist. The tension scares her more than anything, because if she can feel it, she'll react, and when she reacts, Alan notices, and that's when everything can turn sour.

"Hey Jess." One of the other bridesmaids says slightly frantically, snapping the two out of their bubble.

"Fatima, is everything alright?"

"We think the minister might have screwed up the dates, we need you to head over early and make sure he shows up."

"Isn't there someone else to do it?"

The young girl shakes her head and Jess glances back at Cece, a confused expression on her face.

"Okay, I'll head over, thanks for telling me."

Jess turns back to Cece and places a hand on her shoulder. "I've got to go sort out something over at the marquee. I'll see you when you get there, okay?"

Cece nods and they bid each other goodbye before Jess sprints out of the apartment and races down to her car. She hadn't anticipated being one of the first people at the ceremony In fact, she'd hoped that she'd be one of the last to arrive with Cece, meaning that there wouldn't be enough leeway between her and Nick. Things are already playing out against her, and she'd have to snap on her sophistication and readiness fast, and in no way can she give Nick the wrong idea.

* * *

The ceremony is held in a marquee at the top of Kerry Park. It had taken a lot of cash for Schmidt to rent out the grounds, especially with it being regularly swamped with tourists, but he'd managed to pull some strings in the way only Schmidt could.

The set-up Jess had part-taken in the day before has somehow been changed drastically from the way Jess had remembered it, and even the bows on the flowers seem to have been adjusted.

Nevertheless, the the setting is beautiful. Since it's a Jewish/Hindu themed wedding, all the traditions have been merged, and there are even designated Koshur areas for Schmidt's family. There are a couple of waiters around near the tables, an open bar, and they have a good few thirty tables set up with white table clothes and assorted wine glasses. From the outside, it looks lavish and as though they'd spent a million dollars on it all, but the only thing that makes it look that way is the entrance, decorated with an awning and fairy lights hanging from the top, intended to be turned on at nightfall.

Schmidt's family are the first to arrive, along with Nick who keeps a pretty happy façade as he chauffeurs them to the reception. They'd chosen to take Schmidt's uncle's Sedan, not nearly enough to house the party of twenty. In his car are Schmidt, Abi and Gabriel, and Schmidt's mom.

On the way, they'd had a heartfelt talk about Schmidt's life pre-marriage, and talked about all the times back at the loft, and even earlier than then.

Nick had brought up the time Jess brought the hutch into the living room and caused Schmidt to go totally off the rails. Then they'd joked about their fail Tin-Anniversary, whereby Schmidt had declined every crying at, and how Shivrang's proposal to Cece had been sloppy. Nick had then told Schmidt to stop complaining and to appreciate that he'd now get to live the moment Shivrang had so dastardly turned down.

Halfway to the park, Nick had purposely slowed down a little, and had prayed the entire way that the car would break down, or that his mother would call with an emergency from Chicago, or that some miraculous event would happen and he wouldn't have to go to the wedding after all. He'd even started pinching himself to make sure he wasn't asleep.

Eventually, the inevitable arrival at the wedding had come, and the time had come for Nick to face his fears and be a grown up about them. Something he had never been very good at.

"Here we are, folks. Kerry Park."

They pull up outside the _Changing Form_ statue and Nick opens the back door for the women and Gabriel.

He walks with Schmidt up to the marquee, his hands shoved into his pant-suit pockets. He tries to suppress his nerves, asking Schmidt questions about how he's doing and whether he's ready.

Schmidt shakes his head. "I don't know man. I can't figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"What your whole _thing_ is. You don't seem very Nick-like."

"What exactly does it take to be 'Nick-like', Schmidt?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. It's just… You seem distant."

"You, my friend, are going crazy. Now let's get you up to this damn thing."

They hurry across the grass to the marquee, adrenaline pulsing through Nick's veins.

He greets some of the workers already there, and makes his way to the entrance, pushing the plastic glass door open.

He's just about to dart inside and hurry to the back, out of view from anyone he doesn't want to and isn't prepared to talk to, but is stopped abruptly by a smaller figure rushing out, apparently with the same intentions as him.

"Oh god, sorry!"

He stops upon hearing her. That familiar, sweet voice he hadn't heard in so long. He steps back, completely forgetting that there are people behind him.

She brushes a strand of hair from her face and glances up at him, her light blue eyes blinking once before it hits her. Her mouth drops slightly, as does his, and they stand staring at each other, shocked.

"Hey Jess…" He says, his voice shaky.

She pauses, her breath catching in her throat.

"H-Hi Nick."


	8. Author's Note

Hey all! I'm so glad to see that people are still interested in this story, especially since I've been the most unreliable author on here at the moment. Let me lay down for you all why I haven't been updating. It's been a myriad of different things, but I won't sugar coat it.

I've been suffering with tremendous amounts of writers block. There, I said it. I've been sitting at my computer trying to execute a good storyline to carry on through what I want to come of this story, and I do intend on adding about five or six more chapters. I have the idea laid out, but unfortunately, I just _can't_ write Schmidt and Cece, because I'm not passionate enough about those two.

So before there's any confusion, the next chapter will fast forward to the wedding reception. I'll of course backtrack on the wedding and go through the happenings of the most crucial event in this fanfic, but I can't go into great depth as I just can't seem to lure it out of myself, and I don't want to waste time trying to fixate on something I know I'm not passionate enough about. I'd rather just get right to the place I want to be. Also, I'm in no way going to ignore the cliffhanger I left off on. But like I said, that will be addressed. Have faith in me, friends!

So without further ado, I'm going to begin chapter 8 and once again, apologies for my lack of updating!

-Sophie


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